The Gift
by Amber815
Summary: Many have given their life in the great battle. Those who survived will be forever changed by what happened. Grief, guilt, but also love drive the survivors to some unexpected decisions. A Kíli/Tauriel story. Post BotFA. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary** : Many have given their life in the great battle. Those who survived will be forever changed by what happened. Grief, guilt, but also love drive the survivors to some unexpected decisions. A Kíli/Tauriel story. Post BotFA. AU._

 _ **Characters** : Kíli, Tauriel, Thranduil_

 _ **Genre** : Drama, Romance, Angst, Adventure, Family_

 _ **Rating** : M for mature themes in several (but not all) chapters._

 _ **Author's note** : I have been working on this for a long, long time and have given up on it more than once (mostly from a lack of time). I keep coming back to it though and recently decided that the time has come to finally share it here. This will be a long story - more than 10 chapters with over 40,000 words are already written and there is no end in sight. I am excited about everyone who is willing to come along for the ride :)_

 _This is a Kiliel story first and foremost, but it will also explore the relationships of both Kíli and Tauriel with their friends and family. Many things that happen are highly improbable - but hey, isn't that what fanfics are for? Please bear with me as I try my best to explain each character's motivation and make their actions appear plausible. Of course I'm always open to constructive criticism if you feel that I've taken my love for unexpected plot twist a little too far._

 _ **Disclaimer** : The Hobbit and all of it's characters are not my property. Some of the dialogue in Chapter 01 is borrowed from "The Hobbit:The Battle of the Five Armies."_

* * *

 **The Gift**

 **Chapter 01**

It felt as if this was it – the end of all things. Her body bruised and broken, Tauriel stared numbly at the sky above, its color an icy, grayish white that made it indistinguishable from the ground below. No, not quite indistinguishable after all, for she knew that if she dared to look – _cared_ to look – she would see the plains stretching out at the foot of the lookout they called Ravenhill stained with the blood of those who had given their life in battle.

As feeling slowly returned to her limbs, the ground hard and cold beneath her aching back, Tauriel was reminded with a cold, cruel certainty that of course this was not the end. Not for her at least; her relief from the agony she felt inside would not come so swiftly, so easily. While for a mortal a fall as deep as hers might have been fatal, the gifts bestowed upon her by the Valar had protected her from any kind of damage that could not be repaired. She would live and her body would mend.

Her heart, however, was another matter entirely. It had been crushed into tiny shards as she had watched - only moments ago when it seemed as if hours had gone by since, time slowing itself grotesquely in the face of complete and utter despair - a blade being plunged into the chest of the one she had come and failed to save. And now those sharp little splinters were digging themselves into her innards, setting her whole being on fire with pain, causing her to believe that her heart could never be transformed into something whole again. She knew that with the same certainty with which she knew that her outer shell would continue to exist, no matter how broken she felt on the inside.

Almost listlessly Tauriel turned her head to the side, feeling strangely detached from the chaos that unfurled all around her. Down below, her eyes caught Legolas' twirling green form. Clearly he had taken over where she had given up and was now fighting the beast called Bolg with every trick he had up his sleeves. And those were many, Tauriel remembered when she watched him outsmart the creature with his skill and agility. She knew that she need not worry about Legolas; he would deliver Bolg his well-deserved end before too long. This knowledge had curiously little impact on her. One might have expected satisfaction or something similar, and yet she could not find such a feeling anywhere inside of her. For she knew that nothing, not even the death of the brute, could undo the damage he had already done.

Letting her gaze trail away from the dance – for that was the word most apt to describe it – Legolas was performing below, Tauriel settled her eyes on the steep, rocky wall above, the knowledge of what she must do heavy in her chest. And so, with every fiber of her body protesting against the exertion that was too much, too soon, she began her painful ascend back to where she had fallen from before.

When her fingertips finally curled around the icy, jagged edge of the small platform that was her destination, she paused in silent prayer. What she prayed for, she did not know. Only once she dragged herself over the edge and took in the sight before her did she understand what it was that she had begged the gods for in her mind. That somehow, against all odds, Kíli would be waiting for her, alive, his eyes twinkling with the intensity of feeling she remembered from each of their – too few, too short – encounters. She wanted to feel that stirring inside her belly once more that she only felt when _he_ looked at her, his soft brown eyes waking something she had hitherto not even known to lie asleep in the deepest, most secret corners of her soul and for which she had yet no name.

But if the gods had any influence over such things at all, they would surely not pause in their doings to concern themselves with the affairs of one young dwarf and one lowly Silvan elf. And so Tauriel's wish remained unfulfilled, her prayer unheeded, as she came upon a scene unchanged from how she had left it, Kíli resting on the ground, his face ashen, the mark of the single tear he had shed when, together, they had watched all possibilities, all promises the future might have held for them fade away into nothingness, glittering silvery on his cheek, frozen in the biting cold.

She could smell his blood, could taste its metallic tang on her tongue, and for a moment she was overwhelmed with the terrible reality of it all. And then she was moving, crawling rather than walking across the icy ground, crouching on her knees beside his lifeless form, her hand reaching out to take his, even though she knew she would not feel a responding squeeze, no soft caress of her bruised, bloodied knuckles.

His eyes were closed, but she was thankful for it, knowing that the gaze she could have found there would have been empty and cold. Still, she needed something, anything, and so she took the glove off the hand she held between hers, so that she might remember the feeling of his skin upon hers, might recall how he had touched her, briefly but gently, both in Bard's house and on the shore of the lake where they had said their goodbyes.

There was still a trace of warmth left in his flesh, but it was fading quickly. Feeling the last traces of life seep out from between her fingers like stardust was what finally tore through the odd numbness inside of her and, with the cry of a wounded animal, Tauriel leaned over Kíli, her body wrecked with sobs. Once her tears had begun to fall, she found herself unable to stop crying, and so when Legolas appeared at the edge of her vision minutes or possibly hours later, his form blurred by her haze of tears, she did not even lift her head or acknowledge his presence in any other way. Still, she felt him hover there, clearly struggling with the view that presented itself to him.

"Tauriel," he said eventually, his voice less steady than usual. "You cannot know—" he began, but then broke off.

She knew though the things he had been meaning to say. _You cannot know if you would have had a chance. If what you feel now could have grown into something stronger, firmer. If he would have felt the same. If he could have made you happy._

But she shook her head at those unspoken words of her friend. "I do," she said simply, her voice much firmer than his, despite her tears. Gently she brushed a lock of hair from the dwarf's pale face. " _Amrâlimê_ ," she whispered to him, knowing that Legolas would not understand the word. It was her and Kíli's secret.

Then Legolas was suddenly at her shoulder, reaching out to brush his fingers against the fabric of her sleeve. In a gesture quite unusual for the prince in its intimacy, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her lowered head. "Farewell then my friend," he whispered, still close to her. "For I cannot stay. Not after—" Again, he did not finish.

Tauriel looked up at him as he stepped away from her, her eyes hurting from her tears and the whiteness which engulfed them. Legolas looked back at her as if he expected her to say something, something to make him stay. But she found that she had no words to offer him. There was nothing she could give him, after all, and so maybe it would really be better for him to take himself away from here, where all that remained was death, and grief, and more death.

And so, reasoning through her own pain that maybe this was the one service she could do him, she nodded at her oldest friend. " _Novaer_ , Legolas," she said, trying her best to keep her voice sure and steady.

The flicker of hurt she saw in his eyes was the price she knew she would have to pay for his chance at something akin to happiness. His features hardened, he took another step back and then turned around, retreating to the edge of the platform where Tauriel knew he would find the stairs leading him down and away from her misery. She was strangely relieved when, after a moment of hesitation, he took that necessary step and disappeared behind the remains of a stone wall.

Alone once more, Tauriel returned her attention to the still form of the dwarf in her arms, the crease that had formed between her brows during her exchange with Legolas softening instantly. Kíli was so young, his life just a mere spark in comparison to the flame of her existence that had burned steadily for more than six centuries on this earth. Other elves might consider his youth a sign of insignificance in the larger scheme of things, but not she – she knew better.

For it had been Kíli and his innocence, his youthful boisterousness, and his confidence in her, in _them_ , that had given her own life meaning, even if only for the briefest of times. And, if she thought back to the promise his words, his eyes and the soft touch of his hand had held upon their parting at the shore of the lake, she thought that maybe she had been able to do the same for him, that what he had felt for her had given him something to look to beyond his kin's quest for the mountain and the treasures that lay beneath.

Whether that was the case or not, she would never know. All that was left to her was what she had now, those last precious moments alone with him before the inevitable would happen and his kin would claim his body, unfeeling to her need to remain at his side. She did not resent them for it, because, really, how could they have understood, how could they have known?

Remembering something, she took the stone Kíli had given her from a small pocket in her tunic and pressed her lips to it one last time before placing it in Kíli's palm, wrapping his cool fingers around it. She felt that she had no right to keep it now that the promise it symbolized had ceased to exist. Instead, she made a new promise, namely to keep him in her thoughts for as long as she walked this earth and, when the day finally came when she was allowed to move on, be it through an injury sustained in battle or some other way, it would be with his name on her lips.

Moments later, those final, sacred moments with Kíli were disturbed once more by the appearance of another figure in the exact same spot where Legolas had just vanished from view. And while Legolas had been somewhat expected, this new visitor came as a surprise.

Thranduil. Habits ingrained in her very being over centuries sparked in Tauriel the impulse to rise and bow to her king, but she found that her legs would not obey her and that she did not have the strength to rise from the ground. Also, she reasoned, he was not exactly her king anymore, so what was the point in showing him physical deference? He had made it all too clear before that not only had she lost her place at his side, but also in his heart.

Still, her eyes widened slightly when she recognized him. His gaze did not reflect any kind of feeling at all, but was hard and cold instead. With a small gasp, Tauriel was hit by a realization. He had come not by accident, but to deal her her punishment. For her initial betrayal she had been banished from her homeland, but then she had gone and surpassed that first offense by far. Not only had she stood in his way, but had openly insulted him and even gone so far as to point her weapon at him. He had snapped her beautiful bow in two as a consequence, but Tauriel knew that her transgression had been too grave to not be followed by a more severe punishment.

She noticed the Elven King's hand rest lightly on the hilt of his sword underneath his magnificent cape and felt a powerful calmness wash over her like soothing balm for a burning wound. He had come to kill her – and she realized she was grateful for it. Because where was she to go now that she was not welcome in her own home anymore, now that the only hope that had helped her bear the pain of her banishment lay dead in her trembling arms? And even if she found a place for herself in this cruel, cruel world, how could she live with the constant pain of knowing what she had lost?

The awareness of what was to come eclipsed any fear that confronting her king might otherwise have inspired in her. The fact that it would be him to take her life made her experience a strange sense of intimacy with the ruler of Mirkwood, a feeling of personal closeness that even the many centuries under his tutelage had failed to inspire.

"They want to bury him," she found herself saying, the fact that not even in death they would be allowed to remain at each other's side her only regret about what was about to transpire. She had not phrased it as a question and so did not really expect an answer from her former king, but was surprised when he spoke nevertheless and, more than that, she was shocked at the quality of his voice. For there was no hatred in it.

"Yes," he stated and a subtle change in his stance made her look up at him again. His gaze had softened and her eyes filled with fresh tears when she saw some of her own pain reflected in his features.

And she understood then something about her former king she had failed to comprehend in all the time she had known him. Maybe it was her own grief that made her see what before she could not, but it was obvious to her now that many of the things she had despised him for, the decisions she had violently even if silently disagreed with, really stemmed from his own pain and the paralyzing fear of further loss in his life. This did not make some of his actions right, for many of them had been cruel and selfish, but it brought Tauriel a previously unknown sympathy for her king. And, as complex as her feelings towards him had always been, sympathy had not been among them as of yet.

This new clarity about Thranduil's character coincided with him taking another step closer, his hand sliding away from his weapon. And with what should have been relief but came in fact much closer to disappointment, Tauriel realized that that he would not see it through and end her torment with the sharp blade of his sword.

Desperate now, she pleaded with him, hoping to rekindle some of his anger. "If this is love, I do not want it," she cried. "Take it from me."

Her sad attempt to change his mind had the opposite of its intended effect and she watched Thranduil's eyes soften even further, the recognition of her grief written all over his royal features. He pitied her.

She bowed her head in resignation, salty tears spilling onto Kíli's lifeless face. "Why does it hurt so much?" she asked.

It took Thranduil a few seconds to reply. It seemed that he, like his son, was speechless in the face of her despair. When he found his voice again it was soft and went straight to the hollow place where once her heart had been when it had still been whole. "Because it was real."

Her former king's acknowledgement of the bond that she and Kíli had shared caused a pain to flare up in her chest so intense that she felt she might faint from it right then and there. It was too much. Not caring anymore that she had a witness, she acted upon an impulse she had felt before, back at the lake, when Kíli had still been alive, but had sadly been too much if a coward to give into it, and leaned forward and pressed her lips to Kíli's, trying to memorize the feeling.

She lifted his hand to her cheek when she pulled away and her sobs grew heavier once more so that tears fell against Kíli's bare skin, her desperation growing as her time with the dwarf dwindled. Thranduil hesitated beside her, stepping closer but quite obviously not knowing how to give her comfort.

With her body trembling the way it did, Tauriel nearly missed the feeble twitching of muscle beneath her palms, the manifestation of a spark that had against all hope been almost, but not entirely extinguished.

When her mind caught up and she understood the source of the tremor she had just felt, she jerked upright, inhaling the icy air so sharply that it burned in her lungs. "Kíli," she breathed, incredulous. And then to Thranduil who was looking on with a frown of deep confusion, "I just felt him stir. He is not yet dead."

Her mind raced, panicked. What to do? She did not have anything with her that would allow her to perform a healing ritual. And even if she had, she doubted she would have had either the strength or the power that was necessary to heal injuries as grave as Kíli's.

Her frenzied thoughts were suspended abruptly when Thranduil sank down on his knees beside her, his cape billowing around him. Gently but firmly he removed her hands from Kíli's, pushing her backwards and away from the dwarf. Tauriel wanted to protest, but something in his eyes made her remain silent and so she sank back on her heels and watched uneasily as the Elven king leaned over Kíli's still form. He frowned before swiftly but gently removing the outer layer of the dwarf's armor, so that he might have a better view of the damage done to Kíli's body.

Tauriel then watched, mesmerized, as Thranduil lowered his palms until they were inches away from Kíli's upper body and began to murmur words so old she barely understood them, for they were not words used in day to day conversation. She had heard rumors of Thranduil's magic and while she had never doubted that he was, in his own right, very powerful, she had not believed half the things the other members of the guard had sometimes proclaimed he could do.

Now, as she looked on with wide, fearful eyes, she had to reassess her judgment. Those words Thranduil murmured held magic that was different from anything she had witnessed before, be it from the king himself or others. The words were both light and dark, they contained power over both life and death, they were good, they were terrible, they were dangerous and yet safe.

There was no glow radiating from either Thranduil or Kíli, not like when she herself accessed her gift of healing, but instead she could feel a force radiate outward from the elf king and the dwarf, washing over her like an invisible tidal wave.

Thranduil straightened up, casting a look in her direction over his shoulder. She anxiously stared at Kíli's still unmoving body, not daring to ask the question that burned on her lips. Thranduil answered it nevertheless.

"He lives, even if barely so," he said.

Tauriel felt a breath rush out of her, leaving her feeling dizzy and weak with relief. "What do we do?" she asked, her voice shaking.

If Thranduil was bothered by her implication of him and herself acting as one in that matter, he did not let it on. His gaze returned to the young dwarf before him, his lips a hard line. "I merely bought him some more time. He has to be taken to Dale quickly. There, with the right kind of resources and the help of our healers, he might still have a chance."

 _Might still have a chance_. It was not much, but Tauriel was willing to let herself hope one last time. Looking down at Kíli with her heart racing in her chest, she contemplated whether she would be able to carry him. Her thoughts were rendered unnecessary when, to her complete surprise, Thranduil swept down once more and lifted the young dwarf's body against his chest, careful so as not to increase the damage inflicted by his wound.

The pieces of armor Thranduil had unclasped and removed from Kíli's body fell to the ground, but neither the king nor Tauriel paid them any heed. Kíli would not be needing them where they were taking him. Then, without another word, the Elven King headed back the way he had come from, Tauriel stumbling along behind. There was no time to lose.

They descended the steps of the old fortress, going down and down and further down. In her rush to find Kíli, Tauriel had not realized how far up her search had taken her.

Finally they reached the bottom of what was left of the watchtower, a large plain covered in ice stretching out before the unlikely trio. Thranduil immediately went to continue their descent for it was still a certain distance they had to cover until they would reach the relative safety of Dale.

Tauriel, however, was stopped in her tracks by a movement to her right. Squinting against the white glare of the icy surface, she discerned a bulky figure lying on the far edge, a smaller form hunched over it. Her stomach churned when she recognized the lifeless form. Thorin Oakenshield, his eyes staring into nothingness, empty and unseeing.

As she looked on, shocked, several figures converged upon the huddled pair. She saw one member of Oakenshield's company, the fierce one with tattoos covering his skull, drop to his knees when he understood what he was seeing. Another dwarf, very short and very grey, made the sound of a wounded animal, clutching the shoulder of one if his brethren for support.

Then, from somewhere beneath the ruins of the fortress, more figures appeared, walking closely together. They were carrying yet another body in their midst, Tauriel realized. She could not see his face, but the yellow hair, now matted with dark blood, was enough to confirm who this was. The brother. _Fíli_.

An unexpected wave of pain hit her when she remembered how the blonde dwarf had looked at her back in Bard's house, like he did not quite know what to think of her, but was willing to put his brother's life into her hands nevertheless. The brothers had shared a bond unusually strong and tears sprang to Tauriel's eyes when she wondered if it was even possible for one to survive without the other.

"Tauriel." Thranduil's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Come. There is no time to be wasted."

Tauriel hesitated, looking at the group of dwarves wrecked by grief for the ones they had lost. "They should know..." she began, glancing at Kíli who was mostly hidden under Thranduil's cloak.

The Elven king tensed. "It would be his death," he said harshly. "Those dwarves would rather sit by and watch him die than let us take him where he might still be saved."

Tauriel bit her lip. Aside from the two living dwarves who had been with Kíli and Fíli at Laketown – who indeed would be willing to trust her or the king and let them do what needed to be done? Thranduil was right, even though she still could not fathom why he would want to save Kíli in the first place. So she nodded briskly and followed her former king, away from what was left of Oakenshield's company.

She silently promised though that she would return later and inform them about Kíli's fate. Either way, it was maybe better not to give them hope now in case it would turn out to have been futile later. In case that Kíli did not have the strength to pull through after all, but followed where his brother and uncle had already gone.

* * *

* Sindarin for "Farewell"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

One of the reasons why Tauriel had once subjected herself to the burden of being trained as a healer in addition to the laborious task of working her way up in Thranduil's guard was that she simply could not stand watching another person suffer. Ever since the devastating loss of her parents at a very young age, physical injuries in others had the tendency to send her into a state of heightened panic. What if they, too, died? So she had done what she could to enable herself to intervene in those critical situations deciding between life and death, working diligently to perfect both her healing and her fighting skills.

Even though nowadays she was first and foremost a soldier, she had become quite proficient in the art of healing over the years. But of course there were limits to her abilities as there were to those of the healers more knowledgeable than her. And so, from time to time, there were those injuries where one had no choice but to sit and wait for fate to make up its mind. And Tauriel hated every minute of it.

Still, she would not move an inch away from Kíli's side after the healers, at Thranduil's instruction and not without some amount of confusion, had done for him what they could. She hardly dared to blink for fear that she might miss something vital. She had failed Kíli already atop Ravenhill and she would _not_ do so again.

In the fading light that entered the small house she and Thranduil had found upon their return from Ravenhill, Kíli looked just as pale as he had done before. Had it not been for the very slight rise and fall of his chest, Tauriel would long have run out of hope that he might make it through this.

When the light had dwindled so much that it was becoming difficult to see, the drape that had been hung at the entrance to make up for the lack of a door was suddenly pushed aside.

Tauriel tensed. Thranduil had been adamant that as few people as possible were to know about the presence of the wounded dwarf in their midst. Some of his reasons for this were quite clear to her, but all in all his actions, beginning with him saving Kíli in the first place, remained a mystery to her.

She relaxed when she recognized the figure who had entered the improvised infirmary. It was Elhadron, one of the elves who had assisted in treating Kíli a few hours thence and who happened to be one of her few good friends. Like Tauriel herself had been until not so long ago, Elhadron was both a soldier in Thranduil's guard and a healer.

She smiled faintly at Elhadron while he cautiously entered to place a burning candle on a random, half-rotten piece of furniture by the door.

"Has there been any change?" he asked, inclining his head in Kíli's direction.

Tauriel returned her attention to the unconscious dwarf before her, laid on a low table that had been covered with some hastily gathered rags and blankets. She might have smirked at the irony of a tabletop serving as Kíli's sickbed for the second time since they had met had his situation not been so very, very grave.

"None," she replied to Elhadron, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair from Kíli's clammy face.

Elhadron watched her intently, but did not comment on her apparent closeness with the dwarf. "There is still time," he said instead. He stepped a little closer, his voice concerned when he spoke again. "What about you? Have you rested? And has anyone looked at your own injuries?"

Tauriel glanced at him in the dim candlelight and shook her head. "I am well. I don't need anything."

She felt Elhadron's eyes skim across her tunic that was stained with blood in several places, tears in the fabric revealing bruised skin beneath. His eyes narrowed.

"I am _fine_ ," Tauriel insisted. "It is nothing that is not simply going to heal by itself."

Elhadron puckered his lips. "That is no reason to be as uncomfortable as you so obviously are."

She remained stubborn. "I am not leaving here. What if something happens while I am gone?" Some of her despair must have seeped into her voice at that last bit, for her friend's stern expression softened.

"If I bring everything I need here, will you let me help you?"

She looked straight ahead, considering his offer. Then, because she knew he was only concerned for her and because she really was in quite a bit of pain still, she nodded weakly.

Elhadron smiled, pleased. "I will return shortly." He lifted the drape and disappeared into the semi-darkness outside, leaving his candle behind for Tauriel.

Alone once more, she reached for Kíli's hand. _There is still time_... those had been Elhadron's words. Why did she feel then that Kíli's time was running out, every minute without a sign of life dimming the hope she had allowed to flare up in her chest? His skin was warmer now where her thumb brushed it, almost too warm. She wondered if this was good sign – his body fighting against the damage it had sustained – or a bad one. A fever could mean many things, she knew this from experience.

Through the small window that had no glass in it, she was able to discern the looming shape of the mountain. Were the dwarves already preparing the funeral for Kili's uncle and brother, she wondered? And were they grieving for the younger brother as well, searching for his body in the chaos that remained on the battlefield?

There was a twinge of guilt in her chest at that thought. The two she had met at Laketown, Óin and Bofur, had been so full of concern for the health of the younger member of their company back then. They should know that he was not quite lost to this world yet, that by some miracle he was still alive.

But she could not leave Kíli's side now, not when his fate still hung in the balance. A messenger then, maybe... But no, she realized when she looked at Kíli's strangely handsome face. They would take him away and she would not be allowed to see him, would not be trusted after she had taken him to Dale without their knowledge. And she could not bear that thought.

The fabric covering the entrance was thrown back once more; Elhadron had returned. In his hands he carried several small earthen bowls from which a herbal smell rose that reminded Tauriel of home. He placed them and some other utensils on the floor next to where she knelt and looked at her expectantly.

She sighed in resignation and brought up her hands to undo the lacings on her leather bodice, wincing slightly when it came loose, for the fabric underneath clung painfully to the lacerations on her upper body. Carefully she proceeded to lift the back of her tunic, so that Elhadron could have a look at her injuries.

He tutted as he came closer and knelt down behind her. "You should not have left this untreated for so long," he reproached her, gently beginning to cleanse her back with a damp cloth. She almost whimpered, for it burnt like fire.

"What happened to you?" Elhadron asked while he worked, ridding her skin of dried blood and grime. "It looks as if you threw yourself off a cliff."

Tauriel bit her lip. "Something very much like that," she replied, her voice small, for she did not like to remember the circumstances of her injuries.

For a few minutes, Elhadron kept up his work silently, applying various pastes that instantly soothed her pain. When he was done, he reached for a small bundle he had brought with him. Clothes.

"They might not fit you very well, but at least they are clean."

Tauriel accepted his offer gratefully. He had found her a pale grey woolen tunic and a pair of dark leggings. The tunic looked a bit wide about the shoulders and had probably been fashioned for a male body, but with her bodice and belt, it would do. Quickly she slid the garment over her head, almost sighing at how soft and clean it felt on her tired body. Her other clothes she would change later.

"Thank you, my friend," she said to Elhadron, sending him as genuine a smile as she could muster. It felt good to know that, after everything, there was still someone who looked out for her.

Elhadron nodded and sat down on the edge of Kíli's makeshift sickbed, careful not to disturb the dwarf. "Are the things that they say true then?" he asked her bluntly.

Tauriel closed her eyes for a moment. "Most of them are, I am afraid," she admitted, not seeing a reason to lie to her friend.

The healer studied her for a long moment. He did not ask for any of the gory details, for a firsthand account of the probably very wild tales that were being told about her. He did not ask about her connection to the dwarf either. Instead he asked, "Why did you do it?"

Tauriel gazed at Kíli, not at all surprised by Elhadron's question. As her friend, he was not interested in gossip – he wanted to know what was in her heart. "Because it was the right thing to do," she replied after a while. "Even if some of the consequences shall be hard to bear."

Elhadron frowned. "Do you not think the very fact that you are here now might mean that your punishment has become irrelevant to the king?"

Tauriel laughed a little bitterly at that. "You know as well as I do that he thinks leniency a sign of weakness."

"That he does," her friend returned. "But he has also been known to bend the rules a little for you."

Tauriel was hesitant to accept the truth of this, but of course she had to admit in the end that Thranduil had often looked favorably upon her in the past, more like a father than a king. Which did not mean, however, that he could not be very cruel at other times. Maybe even more so.

She shook her head at Elhadron. "Not this time," she said. "Not after what I've done. Whatever his reasons for leaving me be for now may be, he will not forget. He may not want to hurt me, at least not physically, but he certainly won't accept me back in his halls, much less in his guard, either. And either way, I am not entirely sure I would be able to simply return and carry on as before."

Elhadron looked pained at her admission and like he wanted to say something else. Their conversation, however, was cut off by a third voice, raspy and weak. "Tauriel? Is this you?"

Tauriel's heart leapt right into her throat and she was back on her knees, her fingertips clutching at the faded blanket that covered Kíli's body, suddenly shy to touch him directly, no matter how strong the urge to do just that was.

"I am right here," she whispered, her voice not quite functioning all of a sudden.

Next to her, Elhadron had straightened up and was watching her with apparent curiosity. It was, however, a testimony of his friendship that he nevertheless turned to leave. "Send for me if you need anything," he said on his way out.

Tauriel barely heard him. The miracle of seeing Kíli regain consciousness, his eyelids fluttering, brown irises trying to focus, caused a rush of blood in her ears that seemed to drone out everything else.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, finally daring to brush her fingers against his, lightly.

He swallowed, clearly struggling to do so. Quickly she reached for a cup of water left behind by Elhadron, carefully bringing it to the dwarf's lips.

"Where am I?" he asked after he drank.

"In the city of Dale," she replied softly. "You were brought here to be healed."

"I thought I was..." he began, but then trailed off. He did not have to finish the thought though for Tauriel to know what he had been meaning to say. _Dead_.

She was silent for a moment, fighting against the simultaneous urges to laugh and to break down into sobs. "What do you remember?" she asked finally, even though she hated the thought of asking him to live through the horrors of the day gone by once again.

She watched him frown, exhausted, grasping tiredly for a thought. She saw the exact moment when what had happened came rushing back to him, his face going from pale to ashen and his chest expanding in a silent, pained gasp for air. Her hand found his again, her touch firmer this time, trying to anchor him to her, to keep him from drowning in his grief.

"Fíli," he got out, pulling his hand away from hers to press the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. So he knew it then, had witnessed his brother fall before Tauriel had found him atop Ravenhill. She was relieved to not have to be the one to tell him; however this did nothing to lessen the pain of watching him suffer.

Seeing his body quiver with the realization that his brother had gone from his life sent a jolt of intense feeling through her and made her realize just how connected she felt to him, even though they barely knew each other. She wished nothing more than to be able to ease his pain, but of course there was nothing she could do.

"I am so sorry," she said instead, her voice sounding feeble to her own ears. "If I had come sooner..."

But he shook his head, looking at her with pained eyes. "You could not have stopped it from happening. I, on the other hand..."

He trailed off and Tauriel watched as guilt joined the paralyzing grief he already experienced. All she wanted to do, suddenly, was to hold him, to tell him with her body what she could not do with her words. The thought startled her, the impulse new.

Her people were not overly physical in their expressions of sympathy and love – a touch of the hand, a sympathetic brush of skin on skin were the gestures she had grown up with. And they had always sufficed for her; never had she craved anything else. This raw need to entwine her body with that of the dwarf before her thus perplexed her and she froze, her body rigid. Surely she would not dare to…

Her bafflement was broken, suddenly, when Kíli moved, trying to sit up. She quickly held him back with a nervous hand on his upper arm. "What are you doing? You need to rest."

But he struggled weakly against her restraining touch. "No, I need to..." His eyes pleaded with her. "Thorin. I need to speak with him, I need to explain why Fíli was alone up there, why I didn't have his back..."

A tear escaped from the corner of his eye and Tauriel visibly shrank into herself at his agonized words.

"What?" he asked while she fumbled for words. "What is it?"

Her eyes sought his. There was no point in delaying this any longer, no matter how much she wished that she might be able to protect him from the full knowledge of the outcome of the battle for at least a little while. "Your uncle... Thorin..." But she could not say the words, not when she knew what they would do to Kíli.

It did not make a difference in the end, for he saw what she could not say in the pallor of her face.

"No." He shook his head violently even while more tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. "No, please, this cannot be true. Not Thorin, that is impossible... I can't… How can I…"

Tauriel swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I am so sorry," she said again, feeling utterly pathetic. "I saw his body with my own eyes after the battle. He was... gone."

Kíli did not say anything else for a while, but stared at the ceiling instead, his eyes wide with pain and his breathing so ragged that Tauriel feared he might do further damage to himself. Her hand found his again, and after a few minutes her touch seemed to calm him and he returned the pressure of her fingers.

Another few moments were spent in silence before Tauriel spoke, her voice tentative, "I could send word to the mountain," she said, even though the possible consequences of such an action still made her nervous. She withdrew her hand from Kíli's palm to fold her hands in her lap, staring down at her fingers. "It might be good for you to be with your kin... And they must worry about you, too. There was… there was no time to speak to them before you were brought here. Your injuries were too grave…"

She hoped he did not hate her for going behind the backs of his kin, but was surprised when immediately Kíli reached for her, his hand closing around her wrist. "No. Please, not yet," he pleaded. "I need more time, I cannot face them yet. I— I am not ready."

She frowned, confused by his reluctance to be reunited with his brethren. "It is quite possible that they think you dead," she reminded him, recalling the agony of the surviving dwarves as she had witnessed it atop Ravenhill.

"Then let them think so for a little while longer," he returned, his voice distant, hazy with grief. "What difference does it make, after all? Thorin is gone and Fíli… Fíli…" He turned his head away, clearly unable to put the loss of his brother into words.

Tauriel thought to herself that it made all the difference whether he was dead or alive, but she complied with his wish. What else could she have done when his eyes, so desperate, so grieved, begged her to keep his survival a secret for the time being. Also, that new, selfish part of her piped up, this meant that she could stay with him for a bit longer.

It was almost completely dark outside now, the small candle left by Elhadron the only source of light. Kíli's face was mostly cast in shadow and Tauriel resisted the impulse to bring the candle closer so that she might see him better. For she could tell, even in the dark, that his face was still glistening with tears for his beloved brother and uncle and she decided to give him at least this little bit of privacy in his mourning.

The moon had risen high in the sky when Kíli spoke again, his complete silence having caused Tauriel to hope that he fallen asleep and escaped the brutal reality he was forced to face for a few precious hours of blissful oblivion.

"Why did you save me?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Tauriel's own eyes burnt at the dejection she heard his tone for she understood the meaning behind his words. _Why did you not let me die? Why force me to endure this pain?_ Her breath trembled in her chest as the many answers to this question whirled through her head. Out of them all, she settled for the one that was the least complicated, the one that caused her the least of pain.

"It was not me who saved you," she said. "It was Thranduil."

Surprise brought a spark of life to Kíli's sad, listless face as he turned his head towards her. "The Elvenking?" he asked, incredulously.

Tauriel nodded and smiled weakly. "He found me after…" Her smile faded as she recalled her own agony. She lifted her eyes to his. "I thought you were dead. I had given up. But he… there was still hope left. You were not gone yet. I was wrong to give up so quickly."

A small sob escaped her lips and she was surprised by Kíli's hand reaching for hers, grasping it tightly. "I am sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I failed everyone. My b— my brother, my uncle… I almost failed you." He looked at her, his eyes burning into hers and Tauriel was relieved to detect at least a trace of the flame she had seen burn in those eyes before. The dwarf she had come to care about so much was not quite gone, his grief not having consumed him entirely.

She held his gaze even though she thought its intensity might melt her on the spot. "But you did not," she returned, her voice merely a whisper. "You came back."

His look turned from intense to almost tender for a few seconds before he tore his eyes away and Tauriel observed a shadow creep across his features. "Before that, though. Bolg—I tried to fight him off. Tried to help you. But I was too weak." His voice was heavy with self-loathing. He frowned then and raised himself off the bed as far as his wound would permit, looking at her with concern. "Were you hurt? You were still fighting him when I— when he—" He did not finish.

Tauriel tightened her hold on his hand once more in what she hoped was a reassuring touch. "I am fine. A few bruises, some scratches. But nothing serious. Legolas, he… he made sure the brute got what he deserved."

She could feel Kíli withdraw from her even before his fingers slipped from hers. "The prince," he said, his voice a few degrees colder than it had been before. "Of course."

Tauriel was puzzled by the change in his demeanor. Another silence stretched between them, but this one was tinged by emotions that had not been there before. Tauriel wanted Kíli to keep talking to her, so that she might offer him consolation where she could and ease the blame she knew he laid onto himself. But she could tell that for now he had shut himself off from her.

"You should sleep," she thus said, "your body needs all the rest it can get."

Kíli's gaze returned to her and for a moment she was once more able to glimpse the vulnerability in his eyes that he was suddenly trying to hide so hard. "I fear the things I will see once I close my eyes," he admitted.

His words and the pain in his voice pierced Tauriel's very soul. "I will remain right here," she said. "And I will wake you should your dreams trouble you."

He merely looked at her for a long moment, thoughts passing behind his troubled eyes that Tauriel could not clearly identify. Then he nodded almost imperceptibly and turned onto his side, facing away from her.

Tauriel sank back onto the ground and shifted around until she was able to lean her back against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her. Turning her head to study Kíli's form in the almost-darkness, she massaged her thighs, wincing slightly as blood began to flow back into them after kneeling beside the improvised bed for such a long time.

The movement of Kíli's shoulders as his breath slowly began to even out, his exhausted body quickly searching the comfort of sleep no matter how great the turmoil in his soul, might very well have been the most beautiful thing she had beheld in her entire life. Observing the miracle that the gods had presented her with in allowing him to live, Tauriel granted herself a moment of utter and complete peace amidst all the heartache, terror and grief the days past had held and the days ahead would in all likelihood still bring.

Her peace was disturbed, all too quickly, when the first of many nightmares seized the dwarf in her care, his incomprehensible exclamations and agonized groans sending her back into her previous position at his bedside in less than a second. Twisting her hands together she wondered what to do – she had promised to wake him, but would it really be good for him to tear him out of the sleep he desperately needed so very soon? And was reality not currently just another version of the nightmares haunting him?

Making up her mind, Tauriel pressed her lips together and silently climbed onto the bed behind Kíli, thankful that there was no one there to witness her blush as she did so. Settling down as close to him as she dared, she lifted her free arm to reach over his broad back, the curve of her elbow coming to rest a few inches above his waist.

She lay stiffly for a few minutes, unsure of her position and afraid to cause Kíli pain. When his breath became more regular once more, the outward signs of his agony subsiding aside from the occasional mumble, Tauriel grew more sure of herself and was surprise to find that her body molded itself instinctively to his, her embrace not only a source of comfort to Kíli, but also to herself. She was even so daring as to lower her face into the hair tangled at the back of his neck, inhaling his scent that was so very foreign to her and yet also oddly familiar. It sent through her a flurry of emotions she felt resonate at the core of her very being and, more importantly, it affirmed for her once more that he really was alive. He had come back to her.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: Not much plot progress here, mostly some angst and a bit of fluff. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, ... :-)_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit or any of its characters. If I did, I would be rich and living in a custom made hobbit hole in some beautiful, remote place, writing whatever I want all day long._

* * *

 **Chapter 03**

When Kíli awoke in the pale, grey light of dawn, he was blessed with a few moments during which both the ache in his soul and the pain in his body were numbed by the residues of sleep. He was keenly aware of the body curled around his, Tauriel's touch light as a feather despite the closeness of their bodies. He was not surprised by her presence – his mind seemed to have registered her embrace even during sleep. This did however not stop his heart from lurching into his throat, the urge to turn in her arms and hold her close overwhelming and at the same time completely terrifying.

Oh, how he had dreamt of this ever since they had parted on the shores of the lake, the knowledge that there was at least the inkling of a chance that she might feel about him as he felt about her setting his entire being on fire. Dreams of a future in which she might be his and he might be hers had been what had helped him through those dark days and nights during which the company had been holed up inside the mountain, their king adrift amongst the treasures it held, his sanity becoming more questionable with each passing day.

He had stubbornly held onto that hope for brighter days no matter how dire their situation became, had simply ignored Fíli when he had fixed him with a dark, reproachful glare on more than one morning, after, he knew, Tauriel's name had been a whisper on his lips while he had slept. He had told himself that he knew something his brother did not, that his feelings for the fire-haired elf had somehow given him an understanding of things that eluded those who had not yet been so lucky as to encounter someone who captured their heart and soul in their entirety.

In the cruelest manner, though, fate had given him to understand that maybe his brother had been the wise one and he himself the one who did not understand. That Fíli, always the more insightful one, had somehow known that Kíli's hopes for the future where foolish simply because of the fact that there was no such thing as a future for them. Had known that it all was to end not only in fire, but also in death.

Or at least it _should_ all have ended in death. In Kíli's case though, it had not. And now Kíli could not comprehend why he was still there, still alive. He was convinced that the line of Durin was supposed to end on that on Ravenhill and the fact that he was alive still did not alter that conviction, if anything it made his mere existence feel more _wrong_.

And this was precisely the reason why he remained completely still in Tauriel's arms, feigning sleep until she eventually rose from the uncomfortable cot and busied herself with something across the room. For how could he, after everything, cling to his almost childish hope that all would be well, that he would somehow find a way to make both her and himself happy? He had failed everyone – his brother, his uncle, and even his mother in the sense that out of her family of three only one lived. He had even failed at dying properly so that he could be buried at his beloved brother's side.

His fists clenched in perfect synchronicity with his stomach at the thought of his Fíli's body, pale and lifeless, laid up in the tombs deep inside the mountain. This had never been supposed to happen, if anyone it should have been _him_ to go first – him, the reckless one, the foolish one…

The newly rising agony in his heart had to have shown in his posture, for Tauriel suddenly addressed him, her soft voice halting him in his downward spiral towards despair.

"I will need to have a look at your wound before too long."

He glanced at her over his shoulder, wondering if she was merely trying to distract him from his thoughts. He considered turning her away and telling her that he did not really _want_ to get better, that he did not care if his wound festered, but the look in her eyes and the nervous wringing of her hands made him change his mind. Carefully he rolled onto his back and began to unlace the shirt he was wearing, which, he realized only now, was not his own.

When he was done, he let the shirt fall open and turned his head to the side to listlessly stare at the small patch of sky visible through the tiny window, waiting for Tauriel to proceed. Cautiously she approached his bed and began to remove the bandages on his chest with nimble fingers. Gingerly she touched his wound with her fingertips and he flinched, provoking an apologetic look from her.

"It is healing well," she said, the relief in her voice causing a lump to form in Kíli's throat.

To distract himself from the feelings her obvious worry about his wellbeing stirred in him, he risked a glance at his injury. He was surprised to find that it looked nothing like a wound sustained a mere day ago – although he supposed he should be familiar with the potency of elvish healing by now. He, too, lifted a hand to carefully probe the flesh surrounding the spot where the blade had entered his body. It was an angry red, wilted and swollen, but nothing like the bloody mess he had expected.

He looked back up at Tauriel and caught her gaze straying from his wound to skim across his mostly bare upper body. Upon feeling his eyes on her, she immediately checked herself, but the flush creeping across her cheeks caused Kíli's own face to feel quite warm all of a sudden.

Tauriel cleared her throat and this unfamiliar kind of tension between them lessened, but did not entirely dissolve. "I am going to put some ointment under your bandages." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry if it does not smell very pleasant. It is, however, going to help lessen the scarring."

Kíli was not sure whether he really wanted anything to be done about his scar – if he was so lucky as to escape with his life while other, better men had died, should he not at least carry a reminder of that for the rest of his life? An ugly scar seemed to him to be just the appropriate kind of thing. But again he complied, if only to see the small, pleased smile on Tauriel's lips.

"You do not have to stay," he said after she had finished caring for his wound and had reapplied the bandages. It was not that he really wanted her to leave, for he was unsure if he would be able to keep himself from falling apart once he was left alone. He did, however, begin to feel like a burden to her, seeing how weak, how pathetic he had to appear to her.

She smiled a little tiredly. "I have nowhere else to be."

He bit his lip, wondering if she meant that she would rather be with him than anywhere else or if she was merely at his side for a lack of better things to do. If anything, this uncertainty made his need to present her with the option of some time to herself more pressing. "Are you not a captain in your king's guard?" he asked. "I do not want to keep you away from your duties."

At this she actually sat down on the edge of his bed, her fingers playing with the edge of her tunic. "I am no longer a captain," she said, her voice low and hesitant.

Kíli frowned and forgot for a moment that he had only ever mentioned her position to give her a reason to escape from this room for a little while. "I do not understand… back in your homeland you were in charge of the guards inside the dungeons…"

She interrupted him. "Mirkwood is not my home anymore. I won't… I cannot return." Still, she avoided his gaze, her own expression curiously tense.

Kíli was silent for a moment. When mustered the courage to inquire about the meaning behind her words his tone was tentative, for he was not sure he really wanted to hear the answer to his question. "When you say that you cannot return…"

But Tauriel answered before he was finished. "I am forbidden to do so. I was banished." Finally she looked at Kíli, and it pained him to see a hardness in her features he was not used to.

"Why?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. The weight in his stomach that was made entirely out of guilt had just gotten a little heavier still.

Tauriel pursed her lips, but did not even attempt a lie Kíli would have seen through either way. "I disobeyed my king's orders when I followed your company to Laketown," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "He does not take kindly to such transgressions."

Kíli's gaze darkened, the personality of the Elvenking, whom he had only ever seen in front of the gate of Erebor, taunting Thorin, eluding his understanding. He seemed to be a cruel, contemptuous character who did not even spare his own people.

And yet, if what Tauriel said was true – and he had no reason to doubt her honesty – it had also been Thranduil who had saved him – _him,_ a dwarf and one of Thorin's kinsmen. Such an act of mercy appeared to be at odds with anything else Kíli knew of the elf-lord. Unless, of course, Thranduil had had ulterior motives in saving his life.

"What about Legolas?" he asked Tauriel, anger rising in his chest. "Did he get banished as well?"

Tauriel shook her head and smiled sadly. "Legolas followed me because he is my friend and because I convinced him that hunting the orc pack was the reason I had to go."

Kíli swallowed. "But it wasn't?" he asked, his voice not as steady as he would have liked it to be. "It wasn't the reason you followed us?"

Tauriel sad gaze softened at that and he thought for a moment that she might take his hand in hers, but she began to worry a loose thread at the edge of his blanket between her fingers instead.

"I…," she began, but then faltered. She seemed to search for the right words. When she spoke again, her voice was very tentative. "A pack of orcs was not what tugged at my heart so fiercely that I saw no other choice but to defy my king, knowing there would be consequences."

Kíli felt his heartbeat pick up at her admission. Looking back on their time at Laketown, he had later often cursed himself for not asking her if it had really been him she had come for. Not that it made that much of a difference, but still he had spent hours wondering if her finding him there had been a matter of mere coincidence or if she, too, had been profoundly affected by the few stolen moments they had shared in Thranduil's dungeons. More than once had he fantasized about hearing her admit that, yes, it was true, he was the reason she had come to Bard's house that night when he had already half passed into the shadows.

What had been absent in his fantasies, however, was the nagging feeling of guilt that troubled him now and that prevented him from taking her in his arms as his dream-self would have bravely and confidently done. Instead, he let his head fall back on his lumpy pillow and stared up at the ceiling, cursing himself for bringing such misery to everyone he cared about.

He wanted to apologize for putting Tauriel in this awful situation, but she anticipated his intention and spoke before he could. "What happened is not your fault," she said. He felt her fingers brush his shyly, but fought down the urge to grasp her hand in his. "Everything I have done, I chose to do myself. I have no regrets."

Still Kíli could not look at her, but he did turn his hand over beneath hers, lightly squeezing her fingers. If she would not accept his apology, he at least wanted to thank her, but when he opened his mouth to speak no words made it past his lips. For how did you thank someone who had saved your life again and again, losing _everything_ in consequence? No, there were no words that would come even close to making up for what he owed her.

So instead they just held onto each other silently for a few moments, each of them wondering how they would continue with their lives when everything they had known was gone, wiped off the face of this earth, and their whole existence just a few pieces of debris left behind by the storms that had swept over them.

Eventually Tauriel got up from the edge of Kíli's bed, tiredly brushing down her tunic to rid it of some creases. "You should eat something," she said, "Your body will need all of its strength to heal."

"I don't…" Kíli began but fell silent when she looked at him sternly.

"I will see if I can find something. I won't be long." She glanced at the exit, covered with a piece of tapestry of some sort. "I am quite certain that a guard is close by. Call for help if you require it."

This last statement made Kíli frown. A guard? "Am I a prisoner?" he asked Tauriel.

"No." She shook her head, but another slightly nervous glance in the direction of the door told Kíli that she was not quite as sure of that fact as she pretended to be.

He pursed his lips. "Well, I will not be needing any help," he said a little stubbornly.

This caused the corners of Tauriel's mouth to twitch. "All the better."

Gathering a few empty bowls from the surface of a table that had seen better days, she let her gaze sweep across the small space they had shared for what had to be almost a whole day now. The nervousness of the gesture caused Kíli to wonder if maybe she was a little reluctant to venture outside, not quite knowing what awaited her there.

As she approached the exit, he surprised himself by speaking up, causing her to stop in her tracks. "Did you really mean it?" he asked. "When you said that you do not regret what you did."

Once the words were out he immediately wished he could take them back. Did he really have to cause her more pain than he had already by forcing her to confront the issue _again_?

Tauriel remained quite still for a few seconds. Then she looked at him over her shoulder, so beautiful in her sadness that it almost hurt to look at her. "Had I not done as I did, you might not be here right now," she said quietly. "So no, I have no regrets."

Kíli suddenly found it quite hard to breathe, but at least managed to hold her gaze for a few seconds before she disappeared through the doorway, not waiting for him to say anything in return. Which was just as well. It was not as if he could have found words that expressed the feelings that were running wild in his chest, nor the thoughts whirling through his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04**

The air was crisp as Tauriel drifted through the streets of Dale, trying to get her bearings and locate a possible source of food and water. It felt good to be outside again and to clear her head from the troubling thoughts and feelings of the last hours. At the same time, however, it seemed that with every step she took away from Kíli, her uneasiness grew. The shock of almost having lost him forever was still fresh in her mind, and without being able to continuously reassure herself with eyes, ears and touch that he was really still alive, fear began to take hold in her heart once more.

She decided that she would return to his side as swiftly as possible, not only for the sake of her own sanity, but also for his safety. Her assumption had been correct – there had been not one, but two Elven guards posted outside the humble dwelling in which Kíli was hidden from curious eyes. The reasons for their presence Tauriel could only speculate about. Had the king ordered them there as a means of protection for Kíli or rather to ensure that he was not going anywhere for the time being? Both options seemed rather little unsettling.

Navigating through the streets of Dale was more of a challenge than Tauriel had hoped. Due to her seclusion of the day and night before, she had not realized how many people currently resided in the formerly abandoned city. Now every alley seemed to be crowded with men, women and children trying to make themselves at home amongst the ruins, distributing the scarce resources so that everyone received their share.

After what seemed like a long time, Tauriel finally found what appeared to be a temporary, communal kitchen and gratefully accepted two bowls of thin but hot broth from an elderly woman who eyed her with curiosity. Tauriel smiled at her and deflected the question whether she was of the Mirkwood people by asking where she might get some water. It was better, she had decided on her way there, to draw as little attention to herself as possible, both from the former Laketown citizens and from her own people. There were too many questions they might ask for which she simply had no answers.

While she was filling the canteen she had brought at a well the old woman from the kitchen had directed her to, Tauriel was suddenly almost thrown off-balance by a pair of little but quite strong arms being wrapped around her midsection. She jumped, barely managing not to spill the water, and turned around to find little Tilda beaming up at her.

"Tauriel!" the girl exclaimed a little breathlessly. "I'm _so_ happy to find you well. I asked some of the other Elves if they had seen you, but they wouldn't speak to me and then Da told me to stop bothering them."

Tauriel found herself smiling at that and she reached down to cup the girl's cheek in her palm. "As you can see, I am unharmed," she assured her. "But how are your brother and sister? And your father?"

"Oh, they're all fine," Tilda replied. "Da is very, very busy – suddenly everyone seems to want something from him all the time. I don't think he minds though. He often takes Bain with him when he goes out. And Sigrid – Well, she's fine, too, but she is very sad all the time." Tilda's innocent eyes were wide with feeling for her older sister.

Tauriel frowned, worried by what she was hearing. "Why is that?"

Tilda shrugged. "She says it's because of the bad things that have happened. I keep telling her that it's alright, and that we should be happy none of us four were harmed. But she says that other people matter, too, and that many of them are sad because their parents or children or brothers and sisters are dead now."

Tauriel's thoughts immediately went to Kíli who grieved for his uncle and brother and she felt a by now almost familiar weight settle in her stomach. For the little girl's sake though, she tried not to let her feelings show. Instead she knelt down and looked intently at Tilda. "Your sister is right of course – some terrible things have come to pass. But you are right, too. You are all alive and well and you do not have to feel guilty for being happy about that."

Tilda nodded thoughtfully. "I do feel very sorry for the nice dwarves though," she then said, her voice small. "Da told us what happened to their king and his nephew. They must all be so sad now."

The innocently spoken words felt like an arrow piercing Tauriel's heart and it took her a moment to recover. She looked at Tilda, who stared back at her with wide, unassuming eyes, and debated whether or not she should ask the question that was burning on her tongue. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure that no one was listening in on their conversation, she resolved that it was highly unlikely that the girl would understand the intention behind what she meant to ask.

"Tell me," she said, keeping her voice low, "did your father also mention whether the dwarves are still looking for Thorin Oakenshield's other nephew?"

She knew it was risky to bring up the issue, but she just needed to know. Had the dwarves already given up on Kíli? From Tilda's slightly puzzled expression, she could tell immediately that she had addressed the wrong person with her query.

"Looking for him?" Tilda asked, her eyes wide. "Why, is he lost?"

Clearly the girl had heard nothing about the disappearance of the other brother then. Tauriel took this to mean that the dwarves had kept Kíli's unknown whereabouts a secret which in turn could mean that they were still considering the possibility that he might be alive – and rightfully so, as only she, Thranduil and a handful of Elven healers knew.

To ease Tilda's apparent confusion she said, "I thought I heard someone mention something of that sort. But I probably just misheard – silly me."

Tilda nodded slowly. "He must be awfully sad," she then said. "The brother, I mean. I know I would be if something happened to either Sigrid or Bain."

"Yes," Tauriel mumbled, trying not to show how well she really did understand the suffering of the young dwarf who had lost his brother and also his uncle. Her need to return to Kíli's side was growing more pressing by the minute and she had just resolved to bid Tilda farewell when the girl said something that caught her attention.

"Do you think he will be a good king, though?"

Tauriel froze. "Who?"

"The young dwarf, of course." Tilda frowned in concentration. "I can never seem to get their names straight – they all sound the same! Anyway, Da said that he will probably be made king now that the old one – his uncle – is dead."

"Kíli," Tauriel whispered, her mind numb with shock.

"Yes! That was his name – at least I think it was," Tilda exclaimed, her smooth brow furrowed in thought. "I told Da I liked him well enough when they were at our old house. Some of the dwarves were quite rude – funny, but rude – but he was nicer than most of the others and only a tiny bit rude."

Tauriel nodded even though she was barely listening anymore. How, by all the stars in the heavens above, could she have been so absorbed in her own, complicated feelings and her overwhelming relief that Kíli had, once again, been spared a horrible death that she had failed to look beyond what was visible to the eye and grasp the implications of both Thorin's and Fíli's death?

With Thorin gone, no sons that she was aware of left behind, the throne would fall to his nephews. And now that the older one had passed away as well, it was the younger one who would be King under the Mountain. _Kíli_ would be King under the Mountain.

"I have been so blind," she mumbled, looking over her shoulder at the mountain looming over them. It was fairly obvious to her that Kíli had not for one second been oblivious to the responsibility that had suddenly fallen onto his shoulders. If anything, his behavior made much more sense to her now than it had before. The strange twisting in her gut that his reluctance to join his people had caused - _this_ was the reason why she had felt that way. Even while her mind had been too preoccupied to realize the true dimensions of the burden Kíli now carried, she had somehow sensed it in his voice, his eyes, his touch.

"Blind?" Tilda then asked, tearing Tauriel out of her thoughts. "I do not understand. Your eyes seem to work just fine!"

Involuntarily, Tauriel laughed at that and pressed her hand to her mouth when her laugh threatened to turn into a sob. The last thing the girl needed was to be confronted with the heaviness she carried in her heart. Quickly she leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Tilda's temple.

"I must take my leave of you now," she whispered. "Farewell, little Tilda. Take good care of your sister."

"Will I see you again?" Tilda asked quickly, taking a hold of Tauriel's hand. Tauriel felt sorry for leaving her so abruptly, but after the realization she had just come to, she felt that she had to make haste.

"I hope so with all my heart," she returned and sent Tilda a last, genuine smile before picking up the dishes she had put down on the edge of the well to disappear back into the ocean of people flooding the streets.

If she found a chance, she would come back for the little girl, but right now she needed to direct her step away from her – and swiftly. For with the same certainty with which she now knew what the burden on Kíli's young soul was, she also knew that it might very well drive him to do something foolish, something reckless. She just hoped that she was not too late already.

* * *

The first coherent memory Kíli had of his brother was that of the annual celebration held on Durin's Day. In the Blue Mountains, where most of the Dwarven population were exiles from Erebor, the largest part of the festivities on that day was a rather solemn thing, consisting mostly of ceremonies that honored the ancient line of Durin. Thus it was rather uninteresting for both younger and older children.

They all looked forward to that holiday with anticipation anyway. This circumstance was owed to the parade held after dark – hundreds of dwarves went onto the streets that night, carrying lanterns of all imaginable shapes and colors. Some of them went on foot, others came on horseback and those that tried to stand out in particular would decorate whole carts or wagons with lights and let themselves be pulled though the streets by their ponies.

In the particular year that Kíli remembered so well, Fíli had been a fairly little boy still and he himself barely more than a toddler. Despite how little they were, they were allowed to go outside on their own and watch the lights bob by in the dark. Kíli remembered how their initial bravado had been somewhat dampened by the scary feeling of being out in the dark, amongst so many tall, dark shapes and he had felt Fíli's hand clutching his, the two brothers holding onto each other for reassurance.

Kíli's own fear had however been forgotten the moment he had laid eyes on the largest of the wagons as it had been pulled by. On the wagon was Balin with some friends of his and they were all carrying large, flat bowls into which they had put some concoction and then set fire to it. The result was that the most extraordinary flames burned in those bowls, sending bright, silvery sparks everywhere, making the whole cart look as if was surrounded by millions of tiny, perfect stars.

Mesmerized by the beauty of this spectacle, Kíli had wrenched his hand out of Fíli's grasp and had pushed through the crowd in front of him, hurrying after the miniature version of a sky full of stars as fast as his little feet would carry him. Behind him, he could hear the panicked yelp of his brother, but as he had turned to look over his shoulder, Fíli's shaggy blonde head had been nowhere to be seen amongst the dark cloaks of faceless grownups.

Undeterred, he had continued his pursuit of Balin's group, drawing closer and closer to the wagon that had slowed down a little bit because of a group of dwarves that was obstructing the road ahead. Finally the vehicle had been within arm's reach and, with greater momentum than most would have thought possible for such a small boy, he had thrown himself forward, his tiny fingers closing around the wooden planks of the wagon.

Kíli remembered very well how, for a few moments, he had just hung there, stupefied by his surprise of actually having achieved his objective. Another burst of sparks from above had however quickly pulled him out of this stupor and he had laughed happily at being so close to this pretty spectacle now. Not quite close enough though, for he had longed to be able to reach out with his hand and see how the little stars would feel against his skin.

Using all his strength, Kíli had tried to pull himself up onto the platform, which was not an easy task with the way that the wagon now rattled on through the streets. He had tried to avoid looking at the ground below, for whenever he did, a slightly queasy feeling would begin to lodge itself in his stomach, a voice at the back of his head whispering that maybe this had not been his most clever idea of all times.

After a few futile attempts, he had finally managed to swing a leg onto the platform where, unaware of their little passenger, Balin and his friends had been standing. His delight at that fact had however been short-lived because only a split second after, a jolt of the wagon had caused his fingers to slip from the wooden surface they had been holding onto.

Desperately he had clung to the moving vehicle by his fingertips and a panicked glance over his shoulder had told him that letting go was simply not an option – right behind them another wagon had pulled up and if he fell now, unseen in the dark, the sturdy ponies pulling the cart would trample right over him.

Fear had choked up his throat then, so that when he tried to call for help, only a feeble squeak made it past his lips. He had tried to focus his energy on pulling his body up and into safety, but soon all he had been able to see had been the ground flying by beneath and all he had been able to hear had been the sound of hooves behind him.

The sequence of the things that had happened next, Kíli had never been entirely able to get in order. He had heard a shout – "KILI!" – and from the corner of his eye he had seen a shadow leap past him with impressive agility. Before that, or right after, or maybe simultaneously, he had lost his hold entirely and he had felt his body sag towards the ground. He had squeezed his eyes shut then, but the expected impact with the ground had never come. Instead he had felt hands wrap themselves around his forearm, pulling him up violently. This sudden breaking of his fall had caused something in his shoulder to pop and he had screamed out in agony.

Through a haze of pain he had gazed up and seen his brother's face looking down at him, his lips pressed together tightly and his face wet from both tears and sweat as he had held onto him for dear life. And even though nothing in his short life had ever hurt as much as his shoulder did at that moment, Kíli had felt himself calm down as he stared back at Fíli, for the message written all over his older brother's face had been clear: _I've got you and I'm not letting go of you. Not now, not ever._

Alerted by Kíli's scream, the adult dwarves on the wagon had quickly abandoned their business and had rushed to the back of the cart to rescue the little boy from his predicament, finally pulling him up onto the platform. Kíli had cried and cried and cried, both from pain and shock. He remembered not much about what had happened after, only the worried faces of the elder dwarves and the fact that he had refused to let anyone except for Fíli touch him. For with Fíli he had felt safe.

In the aftermath of that incident, Fíli had gotten a lot of grief both from their mother and from their uncle. With both boys being too frightened still to properly account for the events that had taken place, all the adults could assume was that the two of them had tried to get onto the wagon and that the younger had slipped and nearly gotten seriously injured or possibly even killed in the attempt. Fíli, as the older and the one to whom Kíli looked up to, had been reprimanded for getting his little brother into such a dangerous situation. Shouldn't he know better?

Fíli had sat silently through their lectures and had accepted his punishment – which had not been lenient – without a word. Kíli, who had still been sobbing then, cradling his dislocated shoulder – had opened his mouth to protest, but Fíli had silenced him with a shake of his head. Kíli remembered staring at his brother, unable to comprehend why he would simply take the blame for something he had had no fault in. It had been Kíli, after all, who had run away, who had tried to climb the wagon. And all of that merely because he had been trying to reach for the stars. How foolish.

But Fíli had simply taken the hand on Kíli's uninjured arm in his and had smiled at him reassuringly. And Kíli had understood then that none of this – the adults' words, their punishment – mattered to his brother. For one thing, Thorin and Dís would probably not have believed the true story anyway. Such a small boy, coming up with such a dangerous, reckless thing? Impossible. More importantly though, the only thing that Fíli had cared about had been that Kíli was safe – risking everything, even his own life, would be worth that a thousand times.

There were many similar scenarios that had occurred throughout the years that Kíli could remember. But it was this particular memory that, during darker moments, had never failed to remind him how fierce, how unconditional his brother's love for him was and that he could always count on him, even if all else failed.

As Kíli resurfaced from his very intense memory of his brother, he realized that his face was wet. Angrily he wiped at his eyes with the overlong sleeves of the shirt the elves had dressed him in, but the tears would simply keep coming. Eventually he gave up and, just for a few moments, embraced his grief and let the realization that Fíli would never be there to look after him envelop him.

He tried to stop himself, however, when he reached the inevitable point where he asked himself the question how he would go on after this, how life without his brother would look like. He could not admit those thoughts into his head for the simple reason that he knew very well what he must do, where his duty lay now that both Thorin and Fíli were no more. He had known from the second he had first realized that he was the only one out of the three of them who had survived. However, knowing his duty and feeling in any way prepared to fulfill it where two separate things.

It felt to Kíli as if the person he was and the one of whom his people would expect to follow in the footsteps of his uncle and brother where two different beings altogether. Yes, of course he had proudly referred to himself as an heir of Durin for all of his life – it was only now, however, that he truly understood what that meant, what a burden it was that a dwarf of this royal line had to carry. A heavy burden it was indeed, and one that he had never been _meant_ to carry in the first place. Help to alleviate it first for his uncle and then later, at some point in the distant future, for his brother maybe. Alone under its weight he feared that he would crumble, that the weight of his responsibility would grind him to dust.

Panic rose in Kíli's throat and, before he knew it, he had pushed himself up from his cot and swung his legs over the side, overcome by the need to run but having nowhere to run to in the first place. Also, he realized quite painfully, his body still was a long way from obeying him and so he tethered on the edge of his sickbed, the pain in his limbs fighting a war with the pain in his soul.

When the cover at the front of the room was suddenly thrown back, Kíli flinched and tried to compose himself. Tauriel did not need to find him this way. She had risked so much for him already and the least he could do to repay her was to not let her see what a pathetic wreck she had sacrificed not just her position, but also her home for.

He took a deep breath and looked up only to almost choke on the air he had just drawn into his lungs. For it was not the slight form of the red-haired elf-maid that stood in the doorway, but the Elvenking himself. Thranduil.

* * *

Author's note: _Whoops, cliffhanger, sorry about that. The next chapter will be quite tense, as you can probably guess by now. As always, thanks for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As Tauriel finally approached the building she had left Kíli in, her uneasiness had not subsided. She felt guilty over not having recognized his agony any earlier – how lost he had to feel, facing this larger than life task of having to follow in Thorin Oakenshield's footsteps all on his own. She resolved to offer him what meager support she could give him in his predicament. As a Silvan elf she had no understanding of what it meant to be a king and much less of what it meant to be a _dwarven_ king. But she did know something about feeling all alone in the world, without someone there to offer guidance and support. And so, if he would accept her help, she would give it to him unconditionally.

The thoughts of what her recent discovery meant for what had begun to blossom between them before the battle or what would become of the tentative promise he had made to her then, she pushed away. For it would be selfish to put her heart before his duty, would it not?

Upon nearing the entrance to the abandoned house, Tauriel picked up the sound of voices with her sensitive hearing and she frowned. Had Elhadron returned to inquire after the young dwarf's health? But no, it was not her friend's voice which she heard. It was the voice of the king.

Tauriel froze on the spot, just a few feet away from the building's entrance, the food and water she was carrying clutched in her suddenly rigid hands. One of the guards still positioned outside the house raised his eyebrows at her, but she barely acknowledged him. What was Thranduil doing in there, speaking to Kíli?

It was not polite to eavesdrop, she knew this, and probably also not very wise considering that she was being watched by her former king's men. Yet she could not help but strain her ears in order to be able to hear what was being said between Thranduil and Kíli.

"I have come to take my leave," she heard Thranduil say, his voice sounding a little less certain than she was used to.

"Tauriel has gone to find some food," Kíli's brisk voice replied. She could sense the caution in his tone, the uncertainty over what attitude the Elven king might take towards him. "And I doubt it is me you meant to give your farewells to, is it?"

Thranduil gave no reply and, out of habit, Tauriel winced inwardly at the lack of respect with which Kíli spoke to the ancient elf. Of course, he knew no better – with the history between Thranduil and Thorin before him, how could he not despise the Elvenking?

She could only imagine what kind of look it was that Thranduil was fixing the young dwarf with behind those walls and after a few seconds of strained silence she heard Kíli clear his throat. "I can tell her that you were here," he offered, his voice much less dismissive than before. "I believe she won't be long."

"There will be no need for that," Thranduil returned, almost a little too quickly. "We will have gone already. We have spent far too long in this place of death and decay as it is."

Tauriel's heart sank a little at that, even if the king's words came as no surprise to her. She had known the elves would leave soon, just as she had known that she would not be going with them. Still, to hear that fact confirmed so carelessly, so unfeelingly, hurt more than she would have imagined.

Kíli seemed to feel similarly, for he asked the king, incredulously, "You are going to leave without so much a good-bye?"

"I do not have to justify my actions to you, dwarf," Thranduil flared up immediately and Tauriel was just about to intervene, for she recognized the dangerous edge to the king's voice. She was stopped in her tracks, however, by Kíli speaking up again, his tone unexpectedly placating.

"Of course not," he said, and Tauriel wondered at the sudden change in his demeanor. After a longer pause that almost made her think the conversation had ended, Kíli continued, his voice rather low, as if he was reluctant to say the words aloud. "I hear it was you who saved my life."

Tauriel thought she could hear a sharp intake of breath by Thranduil. "That is true, I am afraid," he finally said, his tone quiet and, if Tauriel was not mistaken, rather uncomfortable. A curious thing, a voice remarked at the back of her mind, that the young dwarf seems to be capable of getting under the skin of the king so easily.

"I am in your debt then," Kíli returned, sounding less appalled by the circumstance of Thranduil saving his life than Tauriel would have expected him to. She was beginning to wonder where he was going with this conversation for she had the distinct feeling that he was choosing his words purposefully. Before she had a chance to follow that trail of thought, Thranduil spoke again and what he had to say tugged at her heartstrings in the most painful manner.

"I did not do it for _you_ ," the Elvenking said to Kíli, the disgust that laced his voice not quite enough to disguise the genuine feeling that lay beneath. "I did it for her," he admitted, sending a shiver down Tauriel's spine.

"You still care for her, then," Kíli said. Again, Thranduil did not reply. Kíli seemed to take this as an affirmation of his words and went on, his voice growing more heated as he did. "You still care for her and yet you want to leave her behind, want to banish her from her home. And all of this merely because she did what she felt was right, all of that because she—"

Tauriel decided that this was the moment she should end their conversation if she did not want Thranduil to take the life of the dwarf he had saved a mere day ago in a fit of rage. Pushing the bowls of soup that had long gone cold and the canteen filled with water into the hands of a perplexed guard, she entered the little shelter, scared of what she knew awaited her within.

"My lord," she burst out immediately, even before taking the time to assess her surroundings. "Had I known you were here, I would have made more haste to return…"

In all likelihood it was blatantly obvious to both Kíli and Thranduil that she had not just arrived but had in fact been lurking outside for a while. In their anger at each other, they however appeared too distracted to either notice or care. Both their expressions softened slightly when they turned to look at her, Kíli from where he stood, supporting his weight on the back of a rickety chair and Thranduil a few feet away, his tall, slender form looking oddly displaced in the narrow lodgings.

"Some of the healers informed me that you were headed back to Mirkwood," she lied to her former king, wishing desperately to guide the topic of conversation into more neutral waters – if such a thing existed between the three individuals currently present.

"We are," Thranduil replied, not quite meeting her gaze. "So if there is anything you require before we do, now would be the time to ask."

Tauriel was surprised by his indirect way of asking whether she needed anything from _him_ before they parted ways for good, but tried not to let it show. She bowed her head instead. "It is very gracious of you to ask," she said, "but you have already done more than I could ever have asked for."

She glanced at Kíli who had bristled at her words and begged him with her eyes to keep silent. This was a matter between her and the king and as far as she was concerned, he had shown her more mercy than she would have expected, no matter how much her banishment hurt. It was something she would need to learn to live with, just as Kíli would have to learn how to live in a world in which Fíli and Thorin were no more.

Her plea seemed to have its desired effect, for Kíli pressed his lips together tightly, the only outward expression of his discontent the dark glare with which he fixed the Elvenking. Thranduil, for his part, ignored the dwarf and stepped closer to Tauriel, finally meeting her eye.

" _Novaer, ai elen,_ " he said very quietly, the use of the nickname Legolas had sometimes used for her when she had been little making her eyes sting and causing her hands to tremble. Thranduil, Legolas, the Greenwood… they were all she had known for centuries. Often she had suffered under her isolation, had felt smothered by her king's protectiveness of himself, his realm and everyone in it. But now that she was never to return to those familiar lands, was never to see again those faces she knew, she could not help but feel like the lost, scared child she had been when Thranduil had first taken her in so many years ago.

However, she swallowed her tears bravely and bowed to him who could not be her father and who would not be her king any more. " _Novaer, hîr nin._ "

The two Elves straightened up and looked at one another for a final time before Thranduil turned to leave. So this was it – she was on her own. Tauriel experienced the urge to breathe a sigh of relief as her former king neared the exit – this would have been preposterous, however, for Kíli's capacity of remaining silent seemed to have reached its limit right then and there.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, causing Thranduil to stop in his tracks and Tauriel to flinch. The Elvenking half turned to eye the young dwarf with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Kíli, undeterred, continued, approaching Thranduil. "Allow me, at least, to compensate my debt to you."

"Kíli, please don't…" Tauriel began, horrified by whatever Kíli was trying to do, but was cut off by her former king.

"And out of curiosity," said he, "what do you think it is that I could possibly want from you?"

Kíli pulled himself up to his full height, his expression growing more defiant in the face of the ancient elf's mockery. "Take me with you," he said. "Back to Mirkwood."

A gasp escaped Tauriel's lips even while Thranduil gave a disdainful laugh. There was, however, no humor in his eyes as they fixed Kíli in an icy stare. "Are you certain it is payment that you are offering me and not punishment? I have no use for either you or whatever skills you think you might have," he spat.

If Kíli was insulted by these words, he did not show it. If anything, he seemed to be growing more determined. "I will do whatever it takes," he said, his voice sincere. "Whatever task you set me, I will fulfill it."

Thranduil did not dignify this with a reply and instead turned to leave once more. Kíli's eyes narrowed as he played his proverbial final card – a card Tauriel had not known he would know to play at all.

"Those stones that you want so badly – I can help you get them back."

The air in the small room seemed to stand still. Thranduil did not turn around, but Tauriel could tell from the tension in his back that Kíli now had his full attention.

"I have seen them," Kíli continued, eyeing the Elvenking attentively. "They're quite pretty."

Thranduil whirled around, fire burning in his eyes. Kíli had tried to provoke him – and had succeeded. "What do you know of the White Gems?" he snarled.

Kíli shrugged, unfazed by the threat in the tall elf's steely gaze. "Not much," he replied with deliberate slowness, "Except for how fiercely you desire them. What I do know very well, however, is how dwarves think. I can help you to persuade them to return the stones to you now that—" His voice faltered, but he caught himself quickly, "Now that Thorin Oakenshield is dead."

Thranduil continued to stare at the young dwarf while Tauriel was too taken aback to do much else but watch helplessly as things unfolded before her. Seeing that he was met with no obvious resistance, Kíli went on. "I have two conditions though. For one thing, I will not reveal any information about Erebor or my brethren that does not pertain strictly to the gems. Secondly," he glanced at Tauriel who knew, with sudden clarity what he was about to say, "Tauriel's banishment will be lifted and she will be allowed to return with us to your home in the woods."

"Kíli, no," Tauriel protested, dread squeezing her lungs shut so that her voice was barely more than a whisper. "You cannot do this." But he would not look at her, his eyes locked with those of the king. Horrified, Tauriel turned to Thranduil instead. "My lord, he does not mean it. I am very much aware that nothing of that sort is going to happen, but still, let me apologize—"

Thranduil silenced her with a hand held up in her direction. His pale eyes flickered to her before settling on Kíli once more who stood stubbornly, even though it was plain to see that his weakened body was trembling under the strain of being out of bed quite so soon.

"I cannot pretend that your offer does not hold some temptation for me," Thranduil spoke slowly. "I will need to consider it."

"No!" Tauriel gasped in disbelief. She rushed to Thranduil's side who was already reaching for the piece of fabric covering the entrance to pull it aside. She did not dare to block his way, not this time, but stepped as close as she deemed safe instead. _"You cannot mean this_ ," she spoke urgently to him in their own tongue. _"What he is asking for can never happen."_

Thranduil paused and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. " _Tell me, Tauriel, do you not_ want _to return to the home you abandoned so readily?_ " he asked, and Tauriel could hear some of the hurt that her betrayal of his trust in her had caused him seep into his voice.

She hesitated. Then, seeing that the king's question was one far too complex to answer, she tried another approach altogether. _"But do you not know who he is?"_

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. _"Of course I do."_

 _"_ _Then you know_ why _he wants to leave here. It would be wrong to take him up on his offer – you know this,"_ she pleaded, hoping to make the king see some reason in this matter. She knew that his hatred for the Dwarves of Erebor ran deep, but to bring the rightful heir to the throne below the mountain back to Mirkwood and, in essence, hide him there, appeared to be a degree of meddling with the business of Durin's folk Tauriel would never have deemed him capable of.

She expected to be reprimanded for speaking her mind so boldly, but Thranduil merely looked her over for a long moment instead. She tried to read some of the thoughts that passed behind his noble face, but they flitted by too quickly for her to catch.

"As said before, I will give the matter some thought," he simply said then, reverting to the common tongue. "Our departure will be postponed until I have reached a decision regarding the dwarf's request."

And with that the Elvenking glided through the exit of the small building, leaving behind an air so charged with tension that Tauriel found it hard to breathe. Still, as soon as Thranduil had disappeared from sight, she whirled around to confront Kíli about the mess he had just gotten himself in with his stubborn, misplaced heroism. However, one look at his face sufficed to send her to his side instead, her arms sliding around his waist before he could fall and do further damage to his body.

"You need to lie back down," she mumbled as he sagged against her, trying not to let herself be worried by how warm his forehead felt where it had fallen against the side of her neck. Not without some effort she steered him back towards his cot, helping him to lie down on it once they reached it. The fact that he barely resisted her said much about how exhausted he really was.

Wetting a strip of fabric with water, she put in onto his forehead. "You have a fever," she explained. "And yourself to blame for it," she could not stop herself from adding.

Kíli groaned and lifted his own hand to adjust the cooling cloth on his forehead, his fingers brushing against hers. This time, however, Tauriel pulled away quickly, no matter how strong the impulse to be constantly touching the young dwarf was. She had something to say to him and could not let herself be distracted before she had done so.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed, unsure of who was within earshot of their conversation. "Has your first stay in Mirkwood not taught you that Thranduil is not someone you want to provoke?"

Kíli's gaze darkened. Clearly he did not like to be chastised, but that did not change the fact that what he had suggested to Thranduil seemed not only extremely foolish but more so extremely dangerous to Tauriel.

"I know what I am doing," he insisted.

Tauriel shook her head in disbelief. "No, I do not think you do. For you must know that what you suggested to the king is quite impossible. And no less perilous, I might add."

The dark-haired dwarf before her pursed his lips. "He did seem to seriously consider it."

"All the worse!" Tauriel exclaimed. "You know how partial he is to those stones. But you also know that you cannot go with him. _This_ is where you belong," she said, gesturing towards the mountain visible through the window.

Suddenly Kíli's dark eyes were ablaze with fire as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "And _you_ belong with your people," he growled, staring at her defiantly. "It was on my account that you were banished from returning to them. I will not sit by and watch you be punished for my mistakes."

Tauriel straightened up and took a few steps into the middle of the room, trying to think of something to say that would help Kíli understand the implications of what he considered doing. Coming back to stand at his bedside, she said, "I told you already that I do not regret the choices I have made. I never asked you to do something like this."

"And I did not ask you to come after me when we escaped your king's dungeons," Kíli returned. His words stung for a reason Tauriel could not exactly pinpoint, and she made to move away once away. Kíli, however, quickly caught her by her hand, drawing her down so that she had no choice but to sit on the edge of his cot once more. "That does not mean I am not grateful you did," he added shyly, immediately causing Tauriel's heart to soften.

She sat beside him quietly for a moment, evading his burning gaze. When she finally did look at him, she caught an expression of heartbreaking tenderness on his face, which he quickly hid behind a slight frown.

She sighed, willing her anger over his actions to subside. "And yet it is not for my sake – or not solely for my sake – that you are so eager to leave here," she finally said. "I know what is keeping you away from the mountain, from your people. I could not see it before, but I do now."

Kíli looked away, pained. He did not even argue with her. "Then you understand why I cannot return to Erebor."

Tauriel shook her head. "That I did not say." Scooting closer on the bed, she forced him to look at her with a hand lightly resting on his cheek. "Kíli, you need to go back. They _are_ your people. And they need you as much as you need them. Maybe now more so than ever."

Kíli turned away from her touch. "Do you know what will happen _if_ I go back?"

She did not reply right away, but studied his young face instead, so full of pain, so full of fear. "You will be made king," she said finally, her voice soft. "Which is your destiny."

"And this is where you are mistaken," Kíli immediately returned. "It was Fíli's destiny to one day lead our people, not mine. Fíli – he was noble, he was smart, and brave. I am none of these things."

It physically hurt Tauriel to hear the young dwarf, who had been so full of confidence, so full of life when she had first met him, speak of himself in such a way. "I do not agree," she said, searching his face until he would finally look at her. "Your are all of these things and so much more. And you will be a good king."

Kíli looked at her for a long moment and Tauriel could see his emotions fight a war within him. She reached for his hand to give him strength in this battle, to help him conquer his fears, but he tore away from her, sitting up in bed despite the pain the action obviously caused him, breathing heavily.

"I would lead the Dwarves of Erebor into ruin," he hissed. "All they would know under my reign would be suffering – and they have suffered enough already."

"Kíli, no!" Tauriel interjected, but he would not hear her.

"You do not understand," he said, his tone sharp, "for, if we are honest with ourselves, you barely know me. I am no king. A dwarf king does not constantly put himself in danger, a dwarf king does not constantly need to be saved. And most importantly, a dwarf king does not fall in l—"

His jaw snapped shut and Tauriel knew he had almost said something aloud which clearly he was not ready to say in front of her – or anyone else for that matter. She looked down, a blush creeping into her cheeks despite herself. She wanted to disagree with him, wanted to tell him that, against all odds, she _did_ know him, knew him in a way she had never known anyone else in her life. It hurt that he would so easily dismiss the connection they shared, but she knew his words were fueled by pain more than anything else. And so she chose to leave that matter aside for now – this was not about her, or them, but about him.

"So you would rather have your people think you dead than be their king?" she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

"They are better off without me," Kíli muttered, not looking at her. "With me gone, Thorin's cousin Daín will be next in line to the throne. He will be King under the Mountain. Which is as it should be."

"And how do you propose to know this?" Tauriel asked, feeling her anger at his stubbornness rise once more despite her agony over his pain.

Kíli glared at her over his shoulder. "I just do. Daín may be a little… eccentric, but he will be a good king. He, at the very least, will know what he is doing which is more than could ever be said of me."

Tauriel shook her head in desperation and she grasped at the last straw that came to mind in her struggle to convince Kíli that Erebor was where he belonged. "What about your mother, then?"

The dark-haired dwarf looked at her sharply and she knew she had struck a nerve. She scooted closer on the bed and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. "You made a promise to her, remember?"

Through the fabric of his shirt, she felt Kíli's muscles tense and tremble. After fighting what appeared to be an internal struggle, his shoulders sagged. "For her, too, it will be better if she thinks me gone," he said, his voice flat.

Tauriel recoiled, shocked at his words. "How could you say such a thing? You promised her that you would return to her. You are all that she has left."

Even from her position behind him, she could see him clench his jaw at her words. "What would I be to her but a reminder of everything she has lost?" he choked out, his voice raw with pain. "Her firstborn son, her beloved brother… and all that she has left is _me_ , a pathetic excuse for a dwarf, who—"

"Kíli, stop," Tauriel interjected, unable to bear his self-loathing. "No mother would ever view her child in such a way."

Kíli swung his legs over the side of his cot and made to get up. Tauriel thought about stopping him, for she knew that he really should be resting, but resisted the impulse for it would only upset him further. A little unsteadily, he walked the few steps necessary to stand in front of the small window that was really more of a simple hole in the wall. Leaning against the stone, he gazed at the mountain. "She might not see it that way, no. But that does not make it less true." He turned around to look at her and Tauriel could tell from the look on his face that this was not him merely being stubborn. He really meant what he said. "If she thinks me dead as well the pain will be sharper – but it will lessen over time. If she has to look upon me every day for the rest of her life, on the other hand, the pain over losing Fíli and Thorin will never fade. It will consume her."

Tauriel got up from the bed and came to stand before him. "Just as your pain would consume you, living in isolation from your people for the rest of your life, would it not?"

Kíli held her gaze for a moment, but then looked away. "That possibility is a sacrifice I am willing to make."

Tauriel felt torn between the urge to grab him and shake him until he understood what a mistake he was making and the desire to wrap her arms around him, to draw him close and help him forget, for a fleeting moment at last, the bleakness of their situation. She settled for a small sigh instead.

Wrapping her arms around her own body, she looked at Kíli, who had turned back around to stare at the mountain of Erebor. In the weak light of the winter sun it towered grimly above the city, dismissive of the sorrows of the people it sheltered. A shiver ran down Tauriel's spine as she imagined the depths of the kingdom within that colossal heap of earth and stone. She hoped the sudden feeling of claustrophobia did not show in her voice when she spoke her next words, for she needed them to sound as sincere as she meant them.

"If you stayed," she said, "you would not be facing your task alone. Your company would remain loyal to you no matter what and I—" She broke off, not quite knowing what it was that she was trying to say. "And I would aid you in any way that I can. In any way that you would let me."

Her words were met with silence. A minute or two passed before Kíli ran a hand across his face as if trying to wipe away a trail of thought, a vision of a possible future and he sighed deeply. "What do you imagine," he said, his voice so low that Tauriel had to step a little closer to hear, "what it means to be a king among dwarves?"

Tauriel hesitated, taken aback by his question. "I admit that I have no knowledge worth mentioning of how your people live, much less of the duties of a dwarf king," she finally replied.

Kíli chuckled at that, but his laugh held no mirth. "Well, king or no king, I can certainly tell you that keeping the company of elves is not looked upon favorably." He turned around then, his expression grave and serious. "There would be no life worth living for you at Erebor, even with me as king."

Tauriel's heart sank as he confirmed for her what had already been present in her mind since the moment she had realized what his destiny was. A dwarf and an elf together – be it as friends or something else – was a difficult undertaking at best. A dwarven king with an elf-maid at his side – this was all but impossible. Which meant, in essence, that Kíli accepting his fate would not only mean that they would have to part ways, but also that Tauriel would be all alone in the world with no one and nowhere to turn to.

Still, she swallowed the tears that threatened to spill at those thoughts and hoped that her voice did not sound as choked up as it felt when she replied. "My own fate can play no part in this," she said. "You _must_ stay."

Kíli studied her face for a long moment and she averted her gaze, afraid of what he might discover there. Did he read her words as her way of rejecting him? They certainly were not, but then again, it might be better if he assumed that she was releasing him from the promise he had made her when he had given her his rune stone. If there was no future for them after all, what difference did it make?

The warmth of his calloused hand as it enclosed her fingers, which were so slender in comparison to his, tore her out of her thoughts. His voice was pained but gentle when he addressed her. "How could what happens to you not figure in my decision? You are, after all, the reason I am still here."

Tauriel blinked away a few tears that had gathered in her eyes at the gentleness of his touch. "It seems that this circumstance has brought you only grief and pain. You do not owe me anything, Kíli."

"I cannot agree with that," he returned and stepped closer, taking her hand between both of his and bringing their joined hands up between their bodies so that his lips almost but not quite grazed the skin of her knuckles as he spoke. "Let me repay you for what you did," he pleaded, earnestly, "let me help restore you to the life you knew before I came into it. I cannot bring Fíli and Thorin back to life and I cannot rewind time and prevent their deaths. But I can do this – if only you'd let me."

Her breath caught in her throat when she looked at him, so very close to her, and all she wanted to tell him was that she did not _want_ to go back to the life she had had before she had known him, that she did not want him to repay her for the times she had saved him by giving her back her old life, but by giving her a new one, at his side, in his arms. A life where she was his and he was hers.

But as she gazed into his eyes she saw that his hope, his purpose of undoing her punishment was everything he clung to, everything that appeared to help him get through all of this without losing his sanity. It was not a lover that he needed now, but a friend, one that would remain at his side through those difficult times, but also one that gave him space to come to terms with his grief in his own manner.

She sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time on this day. "I do not approve of your plan," she said, "and I still think and hope that Thranduil will deny you your wish."

"And if he does not?" Kíli asked, his voice tense.

"Then you and I will need to start preparing for a journey to Mirkwood," she replied reluctantly, the very thought seeming completely and utterly wrong.

Kíli pressed his lips together and nodded earnestly, clearly relieved at her – albeit reluctant – acceptance of his decision. He stepped back and let go of her hand, causing her to instantly mourn the loss of his warmth against her skin.

"Then we will wait for your king's decision," he said, his gaze flickering nervously to the mountain one last time before turning his back on the window to return to his improvised cot, remaining upright clearly becoming more and more of a struggle the longer he spent on his feet.

Tauriel remained at the window for a few moments longer as she, too, looked upon the looming shape of Erebor. In her mind she called to Kìli's brethren, hoping that they had not given up on their young kinsman just yet, praying that they might find their way to him before he could remove himself from their grasp forever.

* * *

 _Elvish translations:_

 _Novaer - farewell_

 _ai elen - little star_

 _hîr nin - my lord_

 ** _Author's note:_** _As announced in the summary, characters in my story will be making some unexpected decisions. Kíli, as we know him from the movies, would of course not leave his own people behind just like that. I hope, though, that I managed to make his decision appear somewhat plausible (even while it is completely irrational). I'm very curious to know what you think about this turn of events! Please let me know and leave a review :-)_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Happy New Year to everyone who's reading! And thank you for your reviews to the previous chapter. Here's another difficult one - difficult because it's written from Thranduil's POV. I wanted to explore what is happening from this very complex character's perspective. Hope you enjoy!_

 **Chapter 06**

Upon exiting the confines of the small hiding place he and Tauriel had so hurriedly found for the young dwarf, the Elvenking quickly strode past the guards he had placed at its entrance, not wanting them to discover upon his face traces of the feelings the conversation that had taken place inside had stirred in him. For displays of emotion, be they joyful or sad, angered or at ease, never did a king any favor. Thranduil had learnt this a long, long time ago and he hardly ever forgot himself in this respect.

He took a few steps, needing to put physical space between himself and that cottage in order to distance himself from the events within. He needed to review what had happened with a clear mind, needed to be in control of the decision he had been asked to make. This was not an easy task, however, or not as easy as he would have preferred it to be, at the very least.

This is what you get, he told himself as he tried to subdue the turmoil inside his soul, for letting dwarves trample around your proverbial backyard. Chaos, pain, destruction. Well, it was not as if he had not known these things—no, he had never underestimated the danger this insolent, foolhardy race posed to the peace of his people and his kingdom. Neither had he ever missed an opportunity to voice his thoughts about them, had he?

And yet, when he had been confronted with the imminent demise of a member of that loathsome folk – and a kinsman of Thorin Oakenshield, worst of them all, no less – he had done what he had sworn to himself so very long ago he would never do again, not when life had been so very cruel to him: he had stepped in and had interfered with the course of things, thereby forever altering the fate not only of the young dwarf, but also that of one he still, despite everything and despite himself, counted as one of his own.

He should have known, however, that the consequences of such rash actions were always a lot more far-reaching than could be anticipated, should have known that there was no way of predicting what turbulences his interference might cause, just as it was impossible to predict the number of ripples on a smooth surface of water after you dropped in a stone. And so, within mere hours of his decision to save the dwarf, Thranduil found himself the victim of his own meddling with fate and was now faced with an annoyingly complicated decision.

The Elvenking had to admit – the young dwarf, while bearing a strong resemblance to his hateful uncle not only in physical appearance but also in a number of character traits, had it in him to surprise even him, who had seen so much in his long time on this earth. Kíli was reckless and clearly had a strong disregard for convention, which were not in themselves qualities that Thranduil particularly approved of, not at all. They did, however, set the young dwarf apart from the other dwarves Thranduil had known and he could not help but find this somewhat intriguing, refreshing even.

Which did not exactly make the dark-haired dwarf less of a nuisance. Just the thought of bringing him back to his kingdom, to this safe, sacred place, caused an unpleasant shiver to run up Thranduil's back. Kíli had no understanding of Elven ways of life and certainly no respect for the traditions and beliefs the king and his people so cherished. All his presence in the halls of Mirkwood could ever mount up to was a disturbance of their peace.

Thus, had the circumstances been different, Thraunduil would not have hesitated to throw the insolent little dwarf's suggestion back in his face. As it was, however, the Elvenking could not help but consider Kíli's proposal with more seriousness than he would have thought possible. And this was for three reasons.

Firstly, the boldness of Kíli's actions spoke to a part of Thranduil's soul that had lain dormant for a long, long time. Beyond the fear that spurred his desire to leave behind Erebor and everyone attached to it in favor of a life amongst the Woodelves, Thranduil grudgingly recognized the pureness and innocence of the dwarf's affection for Tauriel, his need to compensate the grief he had caused her stronger than any other force that was pulling at his young soul. He was not sure whether Tauriel or even Kíli himself fully understood the strength of the bond they had formed between them – not yet, anyway.

Thranduil, however, saw what was before him with perfect clarity. For despite what many, including his own son, might think, the Elvenking knew what it meant to love someone more than you loved yourself, to be willing to give up everything and everyone for that person. He also knew, sadly, that sometimes such selflessness was not enough and that it could not prevent the worst from happening. Still, he could not help but be secretly moved by the sacrifice the young dwarf was willing to make.

Also, no matter how hard he tried to fortify his heart, to make it impervious to the gentleness and leniency which only the figure of a father could regard his wayward child with, Thranduil could barely stand the thought of leaving Tauriel behind, of casting out this little one whose eagerness to please him and whose progress as one of his most able fighters had always brought him such – albeit secret – joy.

She had defied and betrayed him in the worst way he could imagine and yet, _yet_ it broke his heart to turn his back on her. Yes, he had climbed Ravenhill in search of his son mostly, fearing the worst, but if the Elvenking was honest with himself, he had come for his fire-haired captain nearly as much as he had for Legolas' sake.

And when he had found her there, broken by the loss of the one she had so foolishly given her heart to, Thranduil had begun to understand that what he had perceived of as defiance and betrayal had really been not a matter of choice on Tauriel's part, but something that ran much, much deeper, something that not even the strong hand of a ruler could control and order about.

This had however not softened the anger and hurt he had felt – no, if anything it had only made it worse. At the same time all those feelings had ceased to matter in the face of the fact that he had known, as he watched Tauriel mourn Kíli's death, that no punishment he might have considered for her could be worse than the fate she was bound to suffer. For Thranduil knew the signs of the imminent fading of an elf, had seen it happen one too many times.

And then, suddenly, amidst the black abyss into which his little star had been threatening to slip, there had been a spark, a sliver of hope. And without thought Thranduil had acted, had tapped into the magic that lay dormant in his blood, and had saved the dwarf because it was all he could do in order to save Tauriel. Because of his doing, she would live, as would the dwarf. And the Elvenking himself would be spared further loss, further grief.

This, however, brought with it one complication – Tauriel's punishment would have to remain intact. For, no matter how much he secretly cherished the red-headed Silvan elf, Thranduil could not risk a crack in his armor, could not allow his people to doubt his often cruel authority, a thought which leniency of any sort was sure to provoke. Tauriel's second transgression, their direct confrontation amidst the ruins of Dale, Thranduil might have been able to cover up so that no one would dare ask why the former captain was not being punished.

Her original act of betrayal and resulting banishment, however, could not simply be swept under the rug. And so, after going out of his ways in order to save Tauriel, Thranduil had found himself faced with the prospect of losing her after all.

Kíli's proposal, then, appeared as a temptingly easy way out of this dilemma. The dwarf had offered the king a deal and with this deal came certain conditions – accepting them would quite conveniently provide Thranduil with an excuse to return to Mirkwood with Tauriel still at his side, and maybe, one day, the rift that had formed between them could be overcome, and things could once more go back to at least a semblance of what they had once been.

The Elvenking glanced at the small, half-decayed building behind him and wondered if such a thing was ever likely to happen, if he would ever be able to once more trust Tauriel, who had been so much like a daughter to him when she had been younger. _Or she you_ , a nagging voice whispered inside his mind.

Willing such feeble thoughts away with a frustrated sigh, Thranduil turned his gaze towards the ugly lump of a mountain looming over the once great city of Dale. Somewhere deep inside of it a grave would currently be prepared for Oakenshield, a tomb to lay the King without a Kingdom to rest underneath its ruins. Ah, if it were but only ruins piled upon the dwarf's final resting place.

He knew in his heart that his third reason for seriously considering Kíli's proposal was driven by feelings far less noble than his affection for Tauriel or his reluctant recognition of the bond she had formed with the young dwarf. That did not change the fact that these feelings of his were at the same time his most powerful motivation to weigh in his mind the risks and gains of taking both the dwarf and Tauriel back to his home in the woods. Just the thought of the White Gems, the closest thing to the actual light of the stars, lying buried beneath this monstrous pile of rubble, being soiled by soot-stained dwarven hands was enough to cause Thranduil's blood to boil.

His desire for the stones was just as fierce as it was irrational, and the Elvenking knew this very well. Still, the promise of even a fleeting moment of feeling closer once more to his beloved wife, who had been gone from his side for so, so long, drove him to try and find a way to obtain the gems for himself once and for all time and again. He thought that if he could just hold them in his hands and observe how the light was reflected in them, he would be able to picture in his mind the way his love's eyes would gleam when she smiled at him, teasingly sometimes, happily mostly.

For over the many years since her death her memory had inevitably faded, becoming less tangible with each century that passed, until her face became something of a blank spot in Thranduil's memories of her, her lovely voice no more than a breathless, incomprehensive whisper at the back of his mind, her familiar scent no more than a tickling in his nose that would cause him to whip his head around in search of its source only to find that it was already gone by the time his mind had registered it.

With a low sigh, Thranduil tore his gaze away from the Mountain of Erebor and threw a slightly wistful glance back at the young dwarf's hiding place. Wistful for he knew that no matter how deep his longing to repossess the white gems or how great the temptation to meddle with the fate of that hated line of dwarves that had taken them from him, he must resist it. It simply wouldn't be wise to become involved in matters of such great impact. Dwarves or no dwarves, stones or no stones, he would stay true to his principle of detachment when it came to his immediate neighbors or he knew he might come to regret it later.

Also, there was still the sliver of a chance that he might obtain the stones regardless of his decision. If he refused to accept Kíli's offer, the young dwarf would be made king of his people. And while he would probably harbor some resentment for the Elvenking for not allowing both him and Tauriel back into Mirkwood, he would still be an infinitely easier partner in negotiations than his uncle. It would surely take some time, but out of all the things on this earth, time was what Thranduil had the most of. He would wait, even if it was painful to do so. And in the end, what was rightfully his would be returned to him.

He had just taken a couple of steps back towards the building he had left several moments ago with the intention of having one of his guards extract Tauriel to inform her of his decision—leave it to her to speak to the dwarf, he owed him nothing after all—when he was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice calling out to him.

"Ah, Lord Thranduil. What a fine chance to come upon you here."

Thranduil tensed and turned around to face the Grey Wizard. "Gandalf," he greeted the Istari, speaking with deliberate slowness in order to assess the wizard's demeanor. "I believe chance is very rarely the cause behind your presence in a place."

The words were spoken in no hostile manner, but neither was the Elvenking's tone entirely friendly. Still, the wizard chuckled and stepped closer in a gesture of such familiarity that Thranduil drew back immediately. Gandalf, he knew, liked to meddle and never entirely managed to stay out of anyone's business, Men, Elves, or Dwarves. Not even the secluded life of creatures as innocent as Hobbits appeared to be safe from him as the recent past had shown. And if there was one thing that Thranduil did not need right now, it was someone to meddle in his affairs, lest that someone should discover the sole remaining Heir of Durin hidden a mere couple of yards from where he stood.

Kíli would have to make an appearance soon anyway, yes, but Thranduil had no intention whatsoever on being implicated in his return to his people. There was an uncomfortable pricking at the back of his eyes – this whole matter had become far too complicated far too quickly and it was high time he withdrew himself from the situation.

"You are quite right," Gandalf now said, drawing Thranduil's attention back to himself. "Indeed it is not entirely by accident that we should meet again, now that it is all over." He came to stand next to Thranduil, following his line of gaze towards the mountain. "I trust that you are already aware of the outcome of the battle on the side of the dwarves?"

"I am indeed," Thranduil responded quickly. He had no desire to discuss the demise of the line of Durin, not least because he knew that this demise was not as complete as everyone thought—that one out of three still lived. "Some might say that their loss is not entirely undeserved," he added sarcastically.

This earned him an admonishing look from the wizard, which he pointedly ignored.

"Which brings me straight to the matter I came to discuss," Gandalf said. "I wanted to express my hope that the events of the days past have altered your opinion of the dwarves of Erebor."

"Altered?" Thranduil asked incredulously. "Why would that be the case? If anything they have confirmed what I have always known. Namely that they are a disgustingly stubborn, foolish—"

Here Gandalf cut him off sternly "There is no need to elaborate on those views of yours." And then, more quietly after a pause, "I urge you not to begin your relations with the new king where you left things with Thorin Oakenshield. Let the mistakes of the past be just that – mistakes of the past, not the present, nor the future."

Thranduil could not suppress a frown. "I should think that the new king is more than slightly inclined to continue Oakenshield's insolent behavior." He thought of Daín, the fierce red-bearded dwarf of whom he knew not much else than what he had seen on the battlefield. Which had been enough to know that he was at least as bad as his cousin, if not worse, and that he hated Elves passionately.

Gandalf too should have been aware of this circumstance, Thranduil thought, and yet the wizard continued to object. "I believe that you would quickly find this not to be the case. The new king may be a kinsman of Thorin Oakenshield, but he carries none of his bitterness or his thirst for revenge."

Again, Thranduil could not help but be slightly bewildered by the wizard's statements. He bit back a remark about the wizard's love for his pipe clouding his judgment in thick smoke. "I have long ceased to expect kindness or forgiveness from a dwarf," he said instead. But even while he said so, he could not help but think of Kíli who had only a few minutes ago exhibited a great many qualities the Elvenking would previously have thought his race incapable of. He pushed the thought away – had he not already decided that the matter of the young dwarf did not concern him?

Gandalf threw him one of those infuriating, much too insightful glances. "May I ask what your plans for any future negotiations with the dwarves are then? For I believe if you just spoke with their king sooner rather than later—ˮ

Here Thranduil interrupted him impatiently. "I should say that I have had enough dealings with dwarves for one day." As soon as the words had left his lips, he wished he would be able to take them back. As stoically as possible he took a step away from Gandalf. "Now if you will excuse me, I have more urgent matters to attend to than what those dwarves are up to below that mountain."

Maybe if he acted as if nothing out of the usual had happened, Gandalf would not notice his little slip… But of course there was no such luck with the wizard.

"What dealings do you speak of?" Gandalf asked, a puzzled frown on his face. "I was under the impression that you had remained within the city since the end of the battle. Did the dwarves already send their envoys?"

Thranduil hesitated for the briefest of moments. He knew that he probably should just inform the wizard about the heir of Durin hidden a mere few feet away from where they stood now. That would take the matter out of his hands and he would finally be allowed to leave this cursed place.

In the silence created by the Elvenking's trepidation one could then suddenly hear raised voices coming from the direction of the ruined building behind them. If Thranduil did such a thing as flinch, he would have done so then and there. As it was, he confined himself to hoping that the wizard was too preoccupied meddling in his business to hear Tauriel and Kíli arguing – because he was well aware that that was what they were doing in there.

But once again, the wizard proved himself to be too perceptive for his own good. He arched his eyebrows. "I believe someone might require assistance in that building over there…"

He took a step towards the house, but Thranduil cut him off. "I am sure it is nothing."

Gandalf remained insistent. "I think I shall have a look nevertheless."

Thranduil felt his temper rise, but forced himself to remain calm on the outside. As it was, he could not even say with certainty why he felt the need to keep Kíli's presence a secret. Gandalf fixed him with a hard stare, which only increased the Elvenking's displeasure with the whole predicament he found himself in. What right did the wizard have to come here, give him advice that was by all means unasked for, and then proceed to stick his long nose into business that was quite clearly not his own?

"I suggest that you leave things be," Thranduil said, fully aware that more of his anger than intended had seeped into his voice. "Go about your business and leave me and my people to attend to ourselves."

Gandalf's stare intensified. "Thranduil," he said, his tone more suspicious than ever, "if there is something – anything – happening here that might affect the relations between Durin's folk and the Woodelves in a detrimental way, I urge you to tell me know so that I can handle it in the appropriate manner."

"Do you believe me incapable of making decisions about the future of _my_ people? I am their _king_ after all," Thranduil snapped. Now the wizard had really crossed a line.

"I do indeed believe that your bitterness clouds your judgment when it comes to anything concerning the Dwarves of Erebor in a way that a king cannot afford," Gandalf returned, his tone unapologetic.

This was the proverbial final straw – Thranduil's temper won out over his reason. Normally he would have had the wizard thrown into his dungeons for speaking to him in this manner, but seeing that he was currently quite far away from his own realm, surrounded by relatively few of his own people and relatively many who he knew were great sympathizers of the wizard, he confined himself to sweeping past Gandalf with his head held high, signaling to his guards to make sure the Istari could not follow him.

"What I believe I can easily afford," he said over his shoulder, his voice icy cold, "is to disregard the advice given by senile old wizards."

And, against his own better judgment, against what he knew in his heart would have been the _right_ thing to do, Thranduil made his decision regarding the request of the dwarf he had saved. Kíli would accompany him and his people back to Mirkwood. If only to spite the wizard who had just insulted him so gravely.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: A very introspective chapter for Kíli. The next couple of chapter will be rather quiet ones, but I promise that there will be more action taking place in the future. Thanks for reading!  
_

 **Chapter 07**

As the Elven army undertook the journey back to their homeland in the forest, the lone dwarf among them found it difficult to say whether each mile that they put between themselves and the kingdom of Erebor alleviated or deepened the pain that seemed to permeate his entire being.

Although what remained of his honor told him differently, he could not help but experience a sense of relief that he had escaped the dreaded duty of stepping in Thorin's footsteps. At the same time guilt clutched at his chest, made it hard to breathe even. Guilt over leaving behind those who loved him, both living and dead. His guilt mingled with the trepidation he felt over what was to come – how would he live amongst the Elves? And then, of course, there was his newly acquired, constant companion, namely his grief for his uncle and, most of all, his brother.

But despite all of his torments, Kíli never wavered on his decision to leave the world of Dwarves behind. Oh, he very well knew that it wasn't a good decision, nor a very healthy one, but he firmly believed that it was the only decision he could have made. He might once have been a deserving descendant of Durin, an honorable member of his race, but as a king he would have posed a danger to the survival of his people – of this he remained stubbornly certain. And since his existence had ceased to serve any of its former purpose, he wanted to dedicate what was left of himself to restoring some happiness to Tauriel, not because he wanted anything from her in return, but simply because she deserved a better life than the one she would have led as an outcast from her own people.

Angling his face towards his right, Kíli was able to get a good view of Tauriel's face. And she definitely did not look happy at the moment. Upon their departure from Dale, she had been offered a horse, but had declined, insisting instead to walk alongside the wooden cart on which Kíli lay amongst empty crates and barrels which the Elves were taking back to their homeland, obscured from sight by a large tarp.

Kíli would have preferred another way of traveling, but for one thing his injuries made it difficult to ride and practically impossible to walk the long distance. Also, a Dwarf amongst the group of Elves leaving Dale would surely attract attention. And attention was the last thing he needed at the moment. And so he had been smuggled out of the city of Dale like a piece of illegal cargo. Either way, this was still infinitely better than journeying inside a barrel full of dead fish, Kíli concluded.

Reverting his attention back to the red-haired elf-maid who so stubbornly refused to leave his side, Kíli studied her expression, her jaw set firmly and her eyes staring straight ahead. And for a brief, weak moment he allowed disappointment to wash over him in one great, powerful wave, momentarily obscuring all his other grievances. For this was not how he had imagined Tauriel and himself to undertake this journey leading them away from the mountain and back into her homeland in those dreams, those fantasies he had indulged in during those strange days at Erebor when he and his brethren had watched Thorin descend deeper into madness with each passing day.

In his dreams of the future, the dispute between Dwarves, Elves, and Men had magically been settled, Thorin restored to both his health and throne, and the unconventional bond between Tauriel and himself had been accepted, even if grudgingly, by those around them. And then they would have left behind the oppressive structure of the Mountain and would have travelled all of Middle Earth together, and together they would have gazed at the stars she loved so dearly and they would have found another chance to see a fire moon, as glorious as the one he had seen so many years ago.

And of course, before too long, he would have made her his wife so that they could be with each other without restraint, so that no one could or would ever dare to raise a word against their union, and they would have been happy, oh so blissfully happy with each other.

Kíli shook his head angrily and blinked away the tears that had begun to gather in his eyes, furious at himself for, once again, letting those silly daydreams get the better of him. For he knew now – had known ever since the battle – that those things could never be. Never could he and Tauriel become lovers, never could they discover the world anew at each other's side. Except, of course, as friends. For that was what he intended to be to her, nothing more, and nothing less.

There was a bond between them that went beyond the usual, beyond the rational even. Kíli could not deny that, no matter how hard he tried. But what he could also not deny was how much misery that bond had already brought the both of them. Nor how much heartache it might bring them in the future.

Now he, for his part, might even have been willing to accept this risk. Or rather, his past self might have, never thinking before he acted, always following his heart oh so stubbornly. Now that he had experienced loss of the worst kind, the loss of his brother who had been like his other half, and the loss of his uncle who had been the only father-figure he had ever known, he could not help but think that he never wanted to attach himself to another person again, for he might not survive the pain of losing this person. And loss, suddenly, seemed omnipresent, a threatening shadow that hovered over every slip of happiness, over every good thing in every person's life.

More so than his own shattered heart, there was of course also Tauriel's heart to consider. Where once Kíli had believed that it was in his power to make this magnificent elf-maid happy, to give her what she wanted and needed in this life, he knew now that he could only bring her sadness. For he had not only had a chance to glimpse Tauriel's love after he had been saved from death, but also her despair. She had never explicitly spoken of it, but he still felt that he had gotten an impression of what losing him would have done to her – her spirit would have been crushed.

And eventually she _would_ lose him – no elf magic stood a chance against that fact for he was not immortal and would never be. And it would break her heart in a way that Kíli was only now beginning to understand – and he simply could not selfishly accept this fact.

What he could do, however, was remain at her side as a friend and in any way that he could help her to find happiness in her life that did not revolve around him, so that one day, when his time to go had come, she would mourn him, yes, but would also be able to move on. To _live_.

The first step towards this end was of course to reinstate her in her old life – for had it not been for him, she would not have been forced to give up this life in the first place. And so here he was, lying on the back of the cart as it was being pulled along towards their destination in the forest.

Since the moment when Thranduil had – rather surprisingly – consented to taking both Kíli and Tauriel along for the Elves' journey back to their homeland, the young dwarf had not quite found the time to give any coherent thought about what might await him in the halls of the Elvenking. Until now, that was, for if there was one thing one could say about his current mode of transport, it was that it gave him ample time to think.

When Kíli had originally made his plea to Thranduil, he had of course not had a detailed plan in mind of what exactly he intended to be doing at Mirkwood. And neither had he particularly cared – the request originally had been made out of sheer desperation both to do something for Tauriel in her dire situation and to remove himself as far away as possible from the things he thought he could not face. But now that he was actually undertaking this particular journey, he began to wonder what his role would be at Thranduil's court.

He could not even with certainty say whether he was going to Mirkwood as a free Dwarf or as a prisoner. Who was to say that Thranduil would not simply lock him up in the dungeons when they got there? He had certainly not expressed an interest in making use of any of Kíli's skills and while Kíli had promised that he would help getting the jewels the king was after back from the Dwarves, they had never specified how this help would look like.

But then again, if going back to Thranduil's dungeons was what it took to redeem Tauriel in her king's eyes, then Kíli would not protest. No matter how he chose to spend the rest of his days, his soul would always be a prisoner of both his guilt and his grief. Would being imprisoned in body as well as in mind really be that much worse?

He knew, though, that Tauriel would find it hard to accept such a turn of events and he was a little afraid that her protectiveness over him might in the end jeopardize her return to her former life. Already, she appeared to be vigilant against a threat that was, in Kíli's eyes, not apparent. Hence her refusal to take a horse instead of walking in as close a proximity to him as possible. Also, right before they had left the shelter of their temporary abode in Dale, she had slipped him a small, but rather sharp knife.

"Hide this well," she had muttered, her gaze nervously flitting away from his towards the door. "Thranduil would not respond well if it was found."

"Then why carry it at all?" Kíli had asked. He could, in all honesty, not detect an immediate danger to his well-being in what they were about to do. And even if there was – then how would one small knife help him against an army of Elves?

But Tauriel had remained stubborn. "I will feel better knowing you have this," she had finally admitted, her face in a deep frown.

Underneath her nervousness and her still apparent anger over Kíli's plan, he had glimpsed some of those more complex, vulnerable feelings that she was so good at hiding. And he just could not continue arguing with her then and so he had forced himself to keep his mouth shut and had slid the knife into the shaft of his boot.

Feeling the small knife's handle press uncomfortably against his ankle, Kíli sighed inwardly. He remembered how overwhelmed – almost happy despite the loss of his brother and uncle – he had been when Tauriel had practically admitted the intensity of her feelings for him after he had been healed. New possibilities for the future had seemed to map themselves out in his heart at that moment; new paths had appeared to open where before there had only been darkness.

All too quickly, however, his more sinister feelings had caught up with him, laying waste to whatever tentative hopes had begun to build inside him. He knew now that this thing – this unfortunate romance – between Tauriel and himself needed to be put to rest, before any damage was done that could not be repaired. What he did not know was how that should be achieved. From the glimpses he had been allowed of her character, Tauriel seemed to be just as stubborn as he himself was. She would not be persuaded to act against her feelings – that at least he was sure of.

Thinking back to the incident with the knife, Kíli realized that he would have to be the first to take a step away from her. Because, if he was honest, he still basked in the glory of having her return his affections, of having this exquisitely perfect, beautiful creature care for him so much that losing him would quite possibly break her heart. It would be hard to do, one of the hardest things, in fact, he had done in his life, but he would have to push her away from himself, ever so slowly, without hurting her more than he already had.

Even though it almost ate himself up from the inside, he invited the thought into his head that maybe, at some point in the future, Tauriel might move on, might direct her affections towards someone else, someone who was more likely to make her happy than he was, someone more _worthy_. He swore to himself that should this ever happen, he would stoically bear the pain of watching her move on, because her happiness mattered so much more than his own. Giving up his freedom, he had come to realize, in order to win back her position at Thranduil's court, might not suffice. Rather, he needed to give up his claim to her love, in order to give her a chance at true and lasting happiness.

The fact that those two objectives stood in more than slight conflict with one another was what kept Kíli's mind busy for a good part of their journey and helped distract him from his other, troubling thoughts. For how would he manage to distance himself from Tauriel when in some sense they were closer than they had ever been, living together among the Wood Elves?

He did not know what Tauriel expected their life at Thranduil's court to look like and it was quite possible that she did not really have any definite idea of this either. Kíli was sure though that no matter what position the Elven King assigned to her, no matter how time they would actually be spending in each other's presence, Tauriel would always look out for him, making it so much harder to help her distance herself from him enough to properly find her way back into her old life – to move on.

The rattling of the cart as it was pulled along lulled Kíli to sleep over and over again, but each time that oblivion was about to relieve him of his troubled, confusing thoughts, he would drag himself away from that brink, both unable and unwilling to relax sufficiently to fall asleep in his current position. Night had fallen and darkness enveloped the Elven army, torches carried by individual soldiers creating just enough light for them to stay on their path.

Thranduil's army did not stop for breaks, which did not exactly surprise Kíli. For the time being, he was content with simply remaining hidden away on the cart, since this meant neither having to confront his conflicted feelings for Tauriel during a stop, nor being faced directly with her anger. In the darkness he could just make out her silhouette amongst her kin, but this was enough to know that she still carried herself with the same furious rigidness as she had when they had set out from Dale. Sooner or later he would have to confront her, just as he would have to confront the consequences of his decisions. But not now, not yet.

When morning dawned and Kíli was just wondering for how much longer his limbs would tolerate the lack of movement that traveling in a lying down position brought with it or – more urgently – how much longer his bladder would hold out, the cart came to an abrupt stop. Judging by the amount of daylight seeping through the fabric covering the back of the cart it had to be somewhere around five o'clock in the morning, which meant that they had been travelling for almost an entire day. Kíli frowned – he would have estimated the overall journey to take just a little bit longer than that. But then again, Elves probably travelled much faster than his own people would. Also, considering the Dwarves' infamous escape from Thranduil's dungeons via the Forest River, he was not familiar with the direct route between Erebor and Mirkwood.

When he turned his head in order to see something of their surroundings and his eyes fell upon Tauriel's face, he got the distinctive feeling that his initial notion had been right and they had not (yet) safely arrived at the Elvenking's halls. Tauriel looked apprehensive to say the least and with no small amount of worry of his own, Kíli observed how she adjusted her coat almost imperceptibly in order to be able to swiftly reach for her blades.

Unmoving she remained right beside the cart, staring straight ahead at something Kíli could not see, no matter how he angled his head. His unease increased when he noticed that the rest of the Elven army was passing them by, the occasional soldier glancing at Tauriel where she stood. Kíli tried to read their expressions – pity? malice? fear? – but saw nothing that could give him an idea of what was happening.

One soldier on horseback approached Tauriel then and leaned down to speak to her. His hair was dark and fell over his shoulders in long, silky strands when he bent forward. Tauriel appeared to know him – Kíli thought he saw her seek for reassurance in the other elf's gaze. Whether she found it or not, Kíli never observed because suddenly the tarp covering both him and the goods transported on the cart was thrown back.

The icy cold air of the early morning pricked at his skin as he found himself gazed at by two curious pairs of eyes. After what had apparently been a moment of weakness for them, the Elven soldiers looking down at him quickly adopted more neutral expressions and, one on either side of him, reached for his shoulders to help him sit up. Kíli suppressed a pained gasp when the sudden movement caused a sharp pain to shoot through his upper body.

He was helped off the vehicle and came to stand on the ground on slightly wobbly legs. When the guards let go of him, the earth below his feet appeared to sway from side to side for a couple of seconds and he quickly reached out an arm to steady himself against the side of the cart. He let go as soon as he felt optimistic that he would not land face down on the ground once he did so.

For a moment, Kíli took in his surroundings. They had most certainly arrived in the forest they called Mirkwood – that much he could tell. Although he had to admit that it was quite different from what he remembered of it. When he had travelled on the Elven road with Thorin's company, the air had been stifling, giving him a searing headache, and the light had been murky, playing tricks on his vision more than once. It would not even have needed monstrous spiders hungry for a bit of a dwarven snack for him to be anything but fond of the place.

Here and now, however, the air was crisp and clear, his lungs welcoming the free flow of oxygen after he had been stowed away under blankets and tarps for so long. Despite it being the middle of winter, the forest was rather green, mostly due to moss covering the ground as well as the roots and trunks of the larger, older trees. It seemed that snow had yet to make it through the thicket of branches overhead, making Kíli feel as if he were inside a bubble, cut off and protected from the world outside.

If only that were truly the case, he thought, for right now it seemed that he was anything but safe and protected. The dark-haired elf had caught his gaze and gracefully lowered himself down from his horse, crossing over to Kíli in a few long strides. Tauriel turned as he did so, giving Kíli a view of her still very worried, though maybe not quite as apprehensive an expression as when they had first stopped.

Except for the two soldiers who had helped Kíli climb off the cart and who had now positioned themselves a few feet behind their little group, he and Tauriel were now alone with the unfamiliar elf, the rest of the army having passed them by. For a brief moment Kíli wondered if he had been brought here into the middle of the forest to be assassinated, but he quickly discarded that idea. For why would Thranduil go through all the trouble of bringing him with them in the first place just to get rid of him? If he wanted him dead, he would not have saved his life in the first place, for after all the Elvenking himself was the reason he was still here, still alive.

"I am Elhadron of the Woodland Realm," the Elven soldier addressed Kíli. "And I am sorry that our journey is taking such an uncomfortable turn." Kíli tried to determine whether he was being sincere or derisive, however he could detect no mockery in his tone.

"What are we doing here?" he thus asked bluntly. "I remember the halls of your king a little differently."

Elhadron made a grave face. "I am afraid that you will not be going to the palace at all for the time being."

Well, Kíli could think of worse things – it was not as if his prime objective of joining the Elves for their journey home had been to once more see Thranduil's kingdom with his own eyes. That did however not make the whole business any less disconcerting and confusing.

"I am not sure you understand," Kíli objected. "There was…" he hesitated, trying to make eye-contact with Tauriel, but failing to do so, because she was staring into the woods, lost in thought. How much did Elhadron know? "There was an agreement," he finally continued, "between me and your king. And it specifically involved me being allowed to return to Mirkwood with your people."

Were it only for him, he would not have cared so much about what was happening. Whether he was at Thranduil's halls or somewhere else did not make much of a difference to him, as long as that somewhere was not Erebor. He was worried, however, that this sudden turn of events might also have consequences for Tauriel's return to her homeland.

From the way in which Elhadron inclined his head, Kíli gathered that he was aware of at least some of the circumstances of Kíli's presence among the Elves. "And I can assure you that the king will not go back on an agreement once made. However, there have been some slight alterations to the conditions you agreed to."

Kíli frowed – why did he feel as if he was being lured into a trap? "What alterations?"

Elhadron's eyes briefly shifted to look at Tauriel, who was still rooted to the spot several feet away. "Will you follow me?" he asked Kíli. "It shall be much easier to show you what I speak of instead of explaining."

Kíli did not see that he had much of a choice and he mutely nodded.

"Are you able to walk?" Elhadron asked. "It is not very far, but if you would prefer my horse…"

Kìli glanced at the magnificent black stallion Elhadron had been riding. An image shot through his mind of the two Elves who had previously assisted him awkwardly trying to lift him into the saddle. At the thought his wound stung a little more fiercely than usual and the back of his neck began to feel slightly warm from embarrassment. "I'll walk," he quickly replied.

And so off they went, Elhadron taking the lead. Kíli followed and, not to his surprise, Tauriel fell into step beside him immediately, shooting him glances of barely concealed worry. Even though he did feel rather poorly, he did his best to keep his back straight and his steps firm. He needed her to believe that he was doing fine so that she would not continue to burden herself with looking after him. The two other Elves followed behind them and Kíli could not help but feel like a prisoner that was being taken away to his cell.

And he also could not help himself but be reminded of his last visit to Mirkwood. Never had he cared so little about being taken prisoner as he had back then. For the whole journey to the Elvenking's realm he had craned his neck, trying to get another glance at that Elf-maid who had swooped in to save his life and had caused his heart to leap into his throat when their eyes had met, making any witty return to her refusal to give him a weapon quite impossible. She had stirred something in him then, something he had never felt before. He had not had a name for it then, but he had known that he must see her again, must speak to her to see if that spark he had felt would still be there.

When he had finally had the chance to speak to her, of course, he had gone and ruined his chance with an embarrassing joke about the contents of his trousers. Alone in his cell, he had wanted to hit his head against the wall. How would he ever know now if what he had felt had been real? To his complete and utter amazement, however, she had come to him again, had spoken to him not as a capturer to a captive, but as one soul to another, had shared something of her own with him without holding herself back.

And as for that spark from before – oh, it had been there alright. And not just that, it had turned into a bright flame that would not be extinguished even after she had left him again, a flame that had burned right through all the dark and terrible things that had happened afterwards.

Glancing at Tauriel out of the corner of his eye, he realized with a lump in his throat that this little flame still burned just as brightly as it had back then. Only now he had decided for himself that instead of stoking the fire with hopes and dreams of the future, it was his duty to smother it before there was nothing left to salvage for either of them.

He had talked himself into believing that with their respective duties at the Elvenking's court – whatever those would turn out to be in his case – they would automatically distance themselves from each other, would not be as obsessed with the fate of the other as they currently were. Now that they were not going to Thranduil's palace after all, he could not help but wonder how this would affect his plans. What on earth was Thranduil's scheme for them?


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Thanks for reviewing, guys! Sorry if Kíli has been driving you nuts with his stubbornness. I'm afraid there's more to come...  
_

 **Chapter 8**

Their small party had left the road they had been travelling on behind and had embarked on a journey into a part of the forest that was even more densely populated with trees than what Kíli had seen of it so far. The ground beneath his feet was damp and soft – frost had not reached the soil, protected as it was by moss, fallen leaves, and of course the sheltering roof provided by the hundreds of branches far above their heads. He wondered if it would continue to be like this all throughout winter or if, at some point, even the forest would be affected by the severest of all seasons.

Kíli was surprised how well he was able to keep up with his Elven companions. He had no doubt that they were walking deliberately slowly, but still, he had been almost mortally wounded a mere few days ago and here he was, hiking through the woods. Not for the first time, he wondered about the magic that the Elven King had used on him.

He knew it to be very different from Tauriel's healing of his wound for two reasons. Firstly, the arrow wound he had suffered during the escape from Thranduil's dungeons had not itself been life-threatening – it had been the poison that had almost killed him and so he supposed that what Tauriel had done to him, the magic she had bestowed upon him, had been directed at the poison rather than the wound. Afterwards, the wound had healed as any ordinary arrow wound would have.

Thranduil, on the other hand, had practically dragged him back from death when he had saved him. Kíli did not have to be a healer to know that a wound such as his meant almost instant death. He could not help but wonder how far he had already been gone. _Quite far_ , a voice inside of him whispered, causing a shiver to run up his spine.

The second reason why he knew that Thranduil's magic had not 'simply' healed him was that he could still feel its echo inside of himself. With the agony he experienced over the loss of his brother and uncle he had not realized it at first, but by now he was beginning to feel as if something had taken hold inside of him, some residue of a very powerful magic.

Now, when Tauriel had healed him, something about himself had changed as well – he could not exactly describe it, but it felt as if by saving him, she had given a part of herself to him and that part would stay with him forever. What that meant for his plans to keep his distance to her, he refused to think about for now.

The residue he felt from Thranduil's magic, meanwhile, was very different. Much less intimate and fragile, but powerful and sometimes a little overwhelming instead. He could not put into words what it had done to him – what it was still doing to him – but when he listened inside of himself, he knew it to be there as surely as he knew his own name. Maybe it would fade over time or maybe it would not – for the time being, Kíli had decided that he would simply accept it as a fact because, for one thing, there was nothing he could do about it anyway and, secondly, he did not seem to be affected in any way except for this strange prickling at the back of his head when he examined this particular feeling for too long.

Either way, even Thranduil's magic knew its limits, and after almost half an hour of climbing over tree roots, Kíli was very glad when Elhadron stopped ahead of them. A sharp pain in his chest was making it quite hard to breathe and he had come dangerously close to fainting more than once during the last few minutes.

"We are here," Elhadron announced.

Kíli slowly walked up next to him, trying to inconspicuously lean against a nearby tree. "And where is 'here', exactly?" he asked. He was rather confused because, looking around, he could not immediately discern a landmark or anything of that sort that might explain the journey they had just undertaken. Just trees and more trees.

"At your abode for the time being," Elhadron returned, and Kíli did not have to so much as glance at him to know that he was making a little bit of fun of his momentary confusion. "Search not for what you expect might be there, but rather see what is already before your eyes."

Kíli raised an eyebrow at this seemingly not very useful piece of advice, but even as he did so, the forest before his eyes seemed to blur and then come back into focus again, revealing first a set of stairs – made of stone and overgrown with moss – and then, nestled between a group of sturdy trees, a small house. Considering its compact size, Kíli would have called it a cabin, had there not been an extraordinary aura about it, a certain beauty that rendered the label 'cabin' much too mundane to describe it. Vines and moss and low-hanging branches almost concealed it from sight entirely and Kíli feared that should he blink, it might disappear altogether once more.

Despite being so completely overgrown, the house was by no means shabby or in a state that demanded repair. On the contrary, when looking at it more closely, Kíli was able to discover an intricate architectural design, reminding him a little bit of some of the buildings he had seen at Rivendell, but much more firmly rooted in nature. Although the walls themselves were made of stone, the structure was supported by elegantly shaped wooden beams, wooden frames carved to perfection decorated the large windows and the entrance door itself was a masterpiece of carpentry, its elaborate design practically calling to be examined up close.

While Kíli was still taking in this unexpected piece of architecture in the middle of the forest, Tauriel whispered something next to him, something he did not quite catch. He turned to look at her and for a moment she caught his gaze, but then cleared her throat and looked past him at Elhadron.

She frowned when she asked, "Of all the places you could have taken us, why here?"

Kíli thought he caught something in her tone that suggested that there was a particular reason she was uncomfortable with being here aside from their shared surprise at not being brought to the king's halls. When Elhadron did not answer her question right away, Kíli thus used his chance to speak in turn. "Would either of you mind explaining to me where we are?"

Both Elves turned towards him and Tauriel smiled a little apologetically, but then her face grew serious once more. "In my language it is called _Tuilimbar_. Translated into the common tongue it means the _Swallow's Nest_. It is home to Faerveren and Iondaer, who are known as great healers among my people."

Kíli frowned because this neither answered why they were here, nor why being here would upset Tauriel. If anything, the information he had just been given gave rise to more questions on his side. "I thought all Wood Elves lived in the Halls of Thranduil?"

This time it was Elhadron who answered. "Most of us do, yes. By permission of the King, Faerveren and Iondaer took up residence at the Swallow's Nest many years ago. The reasons for this, I am afraid, are too complex to be elaborated on here and now."

"One of the reasons is rather simple, though," Tauriel interjected. "Faerveren and Iondaer prefer a quiet and secluded life. Which is why I asked why we were brought to the Swallow's Nest – if all we are going to do is disturb its owners."

Kíli turned to Elhadron expecting an explanation and was a little surprised to see that the elf's face had grown quite sad all of a sudden. "Tauriel," he said, his voice low, "there is no one here anymore whom you might disturb."

Tauriel just stared at him for a few moments, clearly unable to grasp what he was telling her. When she did, the pain etched into her featured was enough to cause Kíli's own stomach to clench and it took almost all of his willpower not to reach out for her hand to offer her some comfort. "I do not understand," she finally said, "They're… gone? How?"

Elhadron stared at the ground when he answered. "The battle."

Tauriel appeared shocked. "But – they were no soldiers. I am not sure either of them even knew how to fight. Why did they come?"

"Because they felt that they were needed," Elhadron replied. "And they were. They prevented the deaths of many – but in the end they weren't able to save themselves."

As Kíli watched Tauriel's grief unfold, he realized with a pang in his chest that once again he was to blame for her misery. Not he alone, of course, but his people, his kin. For starting a war which was doomed to end in chaos, misery, death. In all likelihood the dwarves had not been directly responsible for the death of the two elves before whose house he currently stood, no, but still, it had been Thorin's provocation which had led Thranduil's army to Erebor and it had been the dwarves that Azog and his army had come to annihilate. Thus, had the quest to retake Erebor never come to pass, Faerveren and Ionadaer would still be alive and Tauriel's face would not currently be distorted by pain.

While Kíli's mind had been occupied with such thoughts, Tauriel had torn herself out of her momentary stupor and had crossed the few yards that still separated them from the house and was now slowly ascending the narrow, winding steps leading up to the entrance. Kíli looked on as she ran her fingertips across the window sills at the front of the house, observed how she laid her hand against the wooden front door and closed her eyes in concentration, as if she could still feel a lingering trace of the house's former inhabitants.

Elhadron stepped up next to him, but did not comment on what was happening.

"Did she have a history with the elves living here?" Kíli asked him, feeling slightly uncomfortable to be prying into Tauriel's private affairs, but curious nevertheless.

The dark-haired elf inclined his head. "A long time ago, yes," he replied. "I believe you already know that Tauriel possesses the gift of healing. Faerveren was the one who trained her in the art when Tauriel was still quite young."

For a moment, Kíli was tempted to ask how old Tauriel actually was, but bit back the question. For what difference would knowing the answer have made? "That sounds as if they parted ways eventually," he said instead.

Again, Elhadron inclined his head. "That is correct. Tauriel showed great talent in the art of healing, but her true ambition was to be a soldier in Thranduil's guard. Faerveren, for her part, did not believe that one can be both – healer _and_ warrior."

"So they had a falling out over Tauriel's decision?"

Elhadron appeared to consider this for a moment. "I would not exactly call it a falling out," he finally said, "but rather a mutual agreement that Tauriel's apprenticeship with Faerveren would not continue. Aside from her rigorous principles, Faerveren was the kindest soul you might imagine. She would never have attacked Tauriel for her choice, even if she did not agree with it in the slightest."

"And do you agree?" Kíli asked. "Or do you think Tauriel should have chosen the path of a healer instead?" After being offered a glimpse into Tauriel's past he was intrigued to find out more, to understand more fully who she was and what led her to make the decisions she had made since they had met.

Elhadron studied Tauriel for a moment before answering. "It is difficult for me to say. You see, I myself am both healer and soldier – so I disagree with Faerveren about how you cannot be both at the same time. At the same time, my own talents in the art of healing can in no way be compared with Tauriel's gifts. She has a natural aptness that few possess, so yes, maybe she should have pursued the healing profession first and foremost."

"Then why didn't she?" Kíli figured that at some point Elhadron would be fed up with being questioned by him, but so far he seemed happy enough to oblige, and so he thought he might push his luck a little bit further.

Elhadron surprised him then, by passing the question back to him. "From what you know of her, what do you think her reasons might have been?"

Kíli hesitated, not wanting to make a fool of himself or insult Tauriel's character with wild guesses about her past. But then he forced himself to focus on her, just her, and his memories of their moments together, and forget about all other circumstances for the time being. "I think…," he began, "I think it is not her way to watch things unfold in patience before she acts – she needs to be in the middle of things, needs to make a change where she can. She would—ˮ his voice cracked a little, so he quickly cleared his throat and began anew. "She would risk her life in order to save someone. But if she can help it, she would rather prevent that someone from getting themselves in danger in the first place. So in a way I cannot imagine her being anything but a fighter _and_ a healer at the same time."

He tore his eyes away from Tauriel and glanced at the elf beside him, half expecting disapproval on his face and was surprised to be faced with a smile instead. "I see that you are an apt judge of her personality. It is fortunate that she should have a friend who understands her at her side out here in the forest."

Kíli was debating in his head whether it was really such a good thing for Tauriel to have him with her and did not notice immediately that the elf in question had apparently finished reminiscing her deceased former mentor and had returned to where he and Elhadron stood. He flinched a little when she spoke, wondering how much of their conversation she had overheard.

"I still fail to understand why you brought us out here, Elhadron," she said. "What is our purpose here?"

For the time being, it seemed that Tauriel had wiped all traces of her grief from her face. Kíli thought, however, that there was a certain tightness about her features and an abruptness to her tone, as if she were trying very hard to keep herself from falling apart. He of all people understood how hard that could be, for it was all he had been doing ever since his initial breakdown after learning of Fíli's and Thorin's deaths.

For a moment he thought that Elhadron was about to offer her some words of consolation, but when he did speak, it was in a decidedly neutral, matter-of-fact way, that made Kíli think the elf was not entirely happy with what it was that he had to say.

" _Tuilimbar_ is to be home to both of you for now," he explained. "I have been instructed to see to that you have everything here that Kíli needs to fully recover from his injuries."

Kíli and Tauriel exchanged a glance, each of them wearing a frown on their face. "I do not understand," Tauriel said, "Why out here, by ourselves?"

"I could not say," Elhadron replied a little apologetically. "I can only tell you what the King instructed me to say, and that I've already said. I know no more."

"But we were to return to Thranduil's court," Kíli argued, even though he already knew it was a lost cause. "I assumed that Tauriel would resume her duties there." Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the red-haired elf. This was not at all what he had imagined would happen upon their arrival at Mirkwood. He had wanted her to have a chance at getting her life back and not for her to be imprisoned in some deserted, isolated place with only his miserable self for company.

"I believe it was agreed that Tauriel would return into Thranduil's service without any further specification of her position," Elhadron returned. "And for the time being, this-ˮ he gestured towards the Swallow's Nest and the surrounding forest "-this is where he wants both of you to be."

Kíli tried in vain to pick up on any underlying meaning in what Elhadron was telling them. Did he know more than he was letting on? Tauriel for her part appeared to be somewhat satisfied with the information they had received. She gave a little bow. "Please tell the King that we are grateful for everything we have been provided with." Kíli opened his mouth to interject that all this had not been part of their deal, but was silenced by Tauriel lightly putting a hand against his shoulder. "We shall await his further instructions," she said to Elhadron.

The dark-haired elf looked at her intently for a couple of seconds, some silent communication passing between them. He nodded and gave a slight smile. "I shall return upon the morrow with some supplies from the palace. As for now, there should still be some food and drink left in the house."

Tauriel nodded. "We will make do."

And with Kíli's mind still reeling from too many questions left unanswered, Elhadron set off into the forest, leaving the young dwarf and his Elven companion completely and utterly alone with each other for the first time since they had first laid eyes upon each other in that very same forest.

For what seemed quite a long time, neither Kíli nor Tauriel looked at each other, both staring after Elhadron. Kíli could not speak for Tauriel, but he for his part was still remotely hoping that the elf might turn back to tell them that all of this had been a silly joke or some misunderstanding and that they were expected at the palace right away. However, Elhadron walked on without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Not so long ago he would have given anything for the opportunity of some quiet, undisturbed moments with Tauriel. Now, however, he wanted nothing more but to be anywhere else instead. Even being locked up in Thranduil's dungeons sounded better than _this_. For how was he supposed to look Tauriel in the eye and bear the disappointment he was bound to find there, to witness how once again her hopes had crumbled – because of him.

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, then it was that the reason they were stuck in this place was he alone. He did not understand Thranduil's motives, but surely his decision had something to do with not wanting him – a dwarf – within his halls. He felt anger beginning to boil inside of himself, anger at having been tricked by the Elvenking into believing that they had struck a fair deal. Clearly the king had no intention of honoring Kíli's wishes and he despised himself for being as naïve as to think that he would really be able to make a difference with regard to Tauriel's fate. To Thranduil he was nothing but a pawn in his endless games.

With his mind still reeling from such thoughts, Kíli could not say exactly for how long he had been standing there, staring after Elhadron. And still, Tauriel had not said a single word, which Kíli took as an affirmation that she was just as upset by their current situation as he was. He suddenly felt like he needed to be alone for a while, that under the additional weight of Tauriel's grief, anger and sorrow his knees might buckle if he stayed.

He still did not dare to really look at her and merely turned his head in her general direction when he said, "I will go find myself some place to rest."

When he set off toward the house, Tauriel finally awoke from her stupor. "Wait," she called after him, "let me help you. I should examine your wound."

"No!" he exclaimed, but stopped and half turned back towards her when he realized that this has sounded quite harsh. "I am fine," he added a little more gently, "as is my wound. I just need to lie down for a wee bit."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tauriel getting ready to argue with him, but then she firmly pressed her lips together and nodded. "Then you ought to do just that. I shall look for some firewood while you rest."

And with that she turned and disappeared into the forest as well, leaving Kíli to stare after her with heaviness in his heart. His anger had already begun to fade, leaving him feeling weak and very, very tired. So, with all the strength he could muster, he dragged himself up the uneven steps leading to the front door of the Swallow's Nest.

With his hand on the doorframe he glanced over his shoulder one last time, scanning the tree line. And no matter how much he might have wanted to, he could not deny that his heart gave a silly, happy jolt when he discerned a speck of red amongst the greens and browns that constituted the forest. Despite it all, despite how they both might feel about their current situation, Tauriel continued to watch out for him and right now it simply felt good to know that she did.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Sorry for the wait - this chapter took forever to edit. I'm still not sure I got it just right. It's quite intense, hope you don't mind. Thank you to my few but loyal reviewers - you are who motivate me to sit down with this fic even after a long day._

 **Chapter 09**

Tauriel trailed through the familiar landscape of the Greenwood without any firm destination or purpose. Before she had followed Kíli and his people to Laketown, she had never really left her home in the woods for any prolonged period of time and thus, for her, the experience of coming home was quite novel.

She wondered if how she currently felt was the same as it was for all travelers who returned to a familiar place. To her, walking among the trees once more felt like meeting an old friend whom you have not seen for a long time – you are glad to see each other once again and that your friend is doing well. At the same time you experience a profound sense of melancholy for, while you recognized your friend in an instant, you cannot but notice how much they have changed. Or is it yourself who has changed, your own way of viewing the world that has been altered?

As she passed through the woods with this odd mixture of joy and sadness in her heart, Tauriel chided herself for her own silliness. She had not been gone for a very long time, no matter how it felt to her. Of course the forest, ancient as it was, had not changed during her short absence. And yet… and yet she was seeing it with a different set of eyes, walking over the uneven, familiar paths with a different pair of feet, touching the bark on the trees and the moss on the stones with skin so polished and raw as if it had never touched anything at all before.

Time, it seemed, was altogether incongruent with the essence of a person. For centuries one could remain the same and then, within a few short weeks, might transform oneself into a whole new being, someone who stood as a stranger amongst familiar faces, who walked well-known paths without remembering where they led.

All of a sudden, Tauriel felt a fierce pressure build up inside of her and she had the urge to simply run and leave all those confusing thoughts behind for a little while. And so she did, darting through the forest until the trees at the edges of her vision melted into one great green and brown blur. When she finally stopped, her heart was beating fast and she was surprised to find that tears were running down her cheeks. She sat down then at the base of an ancient, large tree, its roots embracing her like strong arms in a gesture of comfort, and wept.

She wept for Faerveren and her husband, two souls as kind as there were on this earth. How terrible, how senseless was a war such as the one from which she had just returned if lives as innocent and pure as those of her former mentor and her soul mate were sacrificed in its wake.

She had not seen Faerveren in a long time and had not spoken to her even longer, but there had never existed any hard feelings between her and the healer – they had gone separate ways since neither of them had felt that a casual friendship would be the right way to honor the firm bond they had shared during the years of Tauriel's apprenticeship.

However, Faerveren had always held a special place in Tauriel's heart as well as her memory. Now, all that remained was sadness. Sadness and anger, too. Anger at those who had begun the war and also anger at herself for being so consumed by her personal sorrows that until now she had not even spared a thought for the soldiers and civilians who had given their lives in the battle.

She was sensible enough not to burden herself with musings about whether she could have saved Faerveren's or Iondaer's lives, for she knew that she could not have. But that did not change the fact that her sadness over the healer's death mingled with a profound sense of guilt.

She also cried for having become a stranger in her own home, an outcast amongst her people. Tauriel was not sure whether the agony of returning to Mirkwood, but not being allowed to live amongst her people was not altogether worse than the pain caused by the thought of never returning to the forest at all.

Again it seemed that her king had betrayed her. Although she had been skeptical of his intentions all along, a small part of her had reveled in the thought that he seemed at least slightly reluctant to part ways with her. Now it hurt all the more to find her tentative hopes crushed and to be rejected by Thranduil once again. For what else was this order of his to have her and Kilí remain at _Tuilimbar_ , out of his way and out of his sight, if not the harshest of rejections?

For the first time since parting ways on Ravenhill, Tauriel acutely felt the absence of Legolas. He had been the single constant in her life, the one friend whom she had always counted on. Yes, she had sensed that in recent years their friendship had grown more complicated, that it had lost some of its youthful innocence. But still, she had known that, in a time of need, Legolas would step forward for her. As he had when he had disobeyed his father's orders and had ridden with her to Gundabad instead, and as he had done when he had chosen to go with her to Ravenhill to save Kilí and the others. And now he, too, was gone and unlikely to return in the foreseeable future, leaving Tauriel to weep for the loss of yet another friend.

Last - but not at all in the least - she wept for Kilí and for what the last few days had done to what they had shared. Gone was the playfulness from the young dwarf's eyes when he spoke to her, and the burning admiration in his gaze that had once set her heart racing and her blood rushing to her cheeks had been replaced with trepidation and constant worry.

It had been all too obvious that he was upset by the idea of remaining at the two healers' former home with only her for company. And Tauriel did not blame him for it – how could she have? He had left behind his people, the home of his forefathers, abandoned his rightful place on the throne and unimaginable riches along with it and now this was what he was going to get. A life at the side of an elf nobody really wanted in the middle of a forest with no one to distract him from the sorrows that weighed down his heart.

 _No one to distract him except for yourself_ , a voice inside of her piped up. And indeed, she thought, it had not been so long ago that she had fantasized over being allowed some time alone with the handsome dwarf. On some miserably cold nights while traveling with Legolas, she had kept herself warm with thoughts of what Kíli's touch might do to her body when the mere brush of his fingers against hers was enough to kindle a flame inside of her that hitherto she had not even known could burn.

Now that they were finally allowed a break from the dealings of the world surrounding them, however, a certain uneasiness had settled between her and Kíli and what before had seemed so easy and natural was suddenly shadowed by awkwardness and reluctance. And Tauriel could not help but wonder if maybe that was because what was between them had been burdened with too much weight too quickly.

In the short time they had known each other, Tauriel had been sure that Kíli would die under her hands twice, and twice she had felt that she might combust with relief when he had come back to her. He, too, had saved her when she had come quite close to death, and she would always feel indebted to him for coming to her aid. Since they had met, Tauriel had lost her home and everything she had ever known and Kíli had suffered the loss of his beloved brother and uncle.

And as if all those feelings of guilt, debt, and grief were not enough, they had now, in essence, been cut off from the rest of the world. And now here they were, two people hardly more than strangers being forced into a life which demanded a degree of intimacy which, Tauriel was now willing to acknowledge, they might simply not be ready for.

It was not that she did not want to be alone with Kíli – she wanted nothing more in fact than to learn everything that there was to learn about him, to hear him speak of his travels, to find out what he enjoyed and what he disliked, to simply watch him do the most everyday things in his own, particular way. But the truth was that every time she looked at him, all the horrors of the last few weeks began to rise inside of her, threatening to choke her. And if she felt like that, shouldn't it be so much worse for Kíli? Kíli, who had watched his own brother die?

So it was not surprising to her that he should shut her out right now. That did not mean, however, that it did not hurt to watch him pull away from her. She desperately wanted to comfort him in this time of need and, frankly, she herself could have done with some comforting as well. However, she did not know how to get close to him – it was not a thing that she knew how to do and not something that she felt she would be very good at if she tried.

She feared that, left alone with no one to tend to it, the bond that she and Kíli had formed – so fragile and yet so painfully deep – would shrivel until there was nothing left of it but bittersweet remembrance. And that when all she really wanted to do was to find out whether they might still salvage that wonderful thing that had once existed between them, traces of which Tauriel could still feel like the gentle caress of a butterfly's wing when she closed her eyes and focused on nothing but the image of Kíli in her mind, forcing herself to forget about everything else for just a few precious seconds.

Which was what she did now, still sitting there under that friendly, old tree. When she opened her eyes again her breathing had calmed and the tears had finally stopped coming although the traces they had left on her face were still quite evident. They would get through this somehow, one way or the other. In time, her heart would show her the path she must take, if only she listened to it.

Now that she felt more composed, Tauriel looked around, trying to gather her bearings. Quickly she determined that she was a couple of miles north-west of her former home – Thranduil's halls. Tuilimbar was situated on the north-east border of Thranduil's kingdom, which meant that she would need to head in the opposite direction of the sun which was already somewhat low in the sky, telling her that it was rather late in the day already.

Before she set out, however, she stopped to assess her surroundings a little more thoroughly. She was more than a little familiar with this part of the forest. Not too far west from here was where she and the remainder of the guard had captured Thorin and his company of dwarves. That recollection alone was enough to cause her to pause and reminisce for a short while.

There was something else, though, aside from the imprints that this particular part of the forest had left upon her memory that drew her attention. Something was different about the lands surrounding her. It was not really something visible to the eye, but she could sense that something had shifted in the time since she had last been here, that the darkness which had possessed the woods for so long had somewhat lifted. She could not know for sure, but she would have wagered that should she venture further west, she would find that the spiders had begun to retreat, abandoning the lairs they had defended so vigorously for a long, long time.

On their journey back from Erebor, Tauriel had heard murmurs amongst the Elven soldiers of some occurrence down south in the old fortress, of good taking a stand against the most unthinkable of evils. She had not paid much heed to those whispers, absorbed as she had been by her worry about what Thranduil's plans for her and Kíli might be. Now, however, her mind wandered back to the speculations she had overheard and she wondered if maybe whatever had been lurking in Dol Goldur, spreading darkness over her homeland for far longer than she had lived, had really been beaten down. This, at least, might explain the changes she now observed around her.

With her curiosity thus peaked, Tauriel was almost tempted to go and find out for herself if the rumors were true and to see with her own eyes if what she had fought for almost as long as she could remember was now finally happening. With no current duties binding her, there was not really anything to hold her back from doing exactly as she pleased – except, of course, the thought of the injured dwarf she had left behind this morning without so much as a proper goodbye.

She continued to gaze west into the depths of the forest for a little while, lost in thought. Then she turned with renewed resolution and set off east. Exploring the Woodland Realm could wait and right now her priorities lay elsewhere. She did not quite know how to comfort Kíli right now and she could not deny the awkwardness of their current situation. However, that did not mean that she could simply run away – she owed it to Kíli, to herself, and to the bond between them to try so much harder than that.

The journey back to the Swallow's Nest took her quite a while and was made longer by her stopping to gather the firewood she had promised Kíli in the morning. While it was nowhere near as cold here as it had been at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, winter had undeniably arrived and Tauriel knew that they would need a good strong fire if they wanted to be comfortable during the night.

The thought of spending the whole night – and possibly many more after that – alone with Kíli in close quarters put a lump into her throat, which she quickly swallowed. No more thinking about what might or might not be, she told herself, at least not for today. She, too, was tired and would need to rest eventually. First, though, she needed to reach her destination.

When Tauriel arrived at the Swallow's Nest, the forest had long since been plunged into darkness. She was made uneasy by the sight of the large windows staring back at her like empty, black eyes. For a moment she was afraid that Kíli might not even be there anymore. Her fear was immediately replaced by guilt when she remembered that of course he would not have been able to light a fire without the firewood she had gone out for.

Quickly she made her way up the uneven stairs and put her hand against the front door. It had been carved out of wood and resembled the limbs of a tree, all weaving into one another. Small spaces in between those carved branches had been set with pieces of the most beautiful stained glass. She had not been here for a long, long time and was, for a moment, completely taken in by the sight that presented itself to her upon pushing open the door. Stepping through the entrance of Tuilimbar, one found oneself in a large, open room that was mostly empty except for a large, soft carpet laid out in its center. Right above it, a huge, round skylight caught the light of the moon in such a way as to give the whole room the appearance of being filled with stars and other celestial bodies.

Tauriel remembered how during her apprenticeship with Faerveren, she would sometimes sneak into this room at night to lie on her back on the floor, feeling the world fall away while she imagined herself to be floating amongst the stars. Which was exactly what the room was for, but still she had felt the need to keep her visits to it a secret, something private that she wanted to share with nobody else.

Doorways carved in an equally beautiful manner as the front door led into several other rooms and hallways. The house's small appearance from the outside was deceptive, for on the inside it was much bigger. With the moonlight as her aide, Tauriel peered into the house's different compartments, finally locating Kíli's sleeping form on a rug in front of the chimney in a room that had served Faerveren and Iondaer as both a library and a sort of workshop where Iondaer had put together the healing tonics that had been his specialty.

Upon approaching, Tauriel was relieved to find that apparently there had still been some firewood left in the house for Kíli to build a small fire. It had burned out by now, but it lessened her guilty conscience to think that he had not gone to sleep feeling cold. His position on the floor did not look very comfortable though and Tauriel debated for a while whether she should try to move him onto one of the beds Iondaer and Faerveren had always kept made up and ready in case they needed to offer it as a sickbed to one of their patients. She thought that physically she should be able to lift him, but then concluded that he probably would not like being carried around by her.

In the end she settled for rekindling the fire and gently wedged a small pillow under his head. For a moment she remained on her knees next to him and gazed at his face in the light of the fire. He had not moved an inch since she had returned and even in sleep, exhaustion was still written all over his features. She knew that he would need a lot more than just a good night's sleep in order to recover from what he had been through, but the fact that he was asleep rather peacefully now was at least a start. And so she left him there to seek some rest herself, hoping that not just her body, but also her mind would quiet down when finally given the chance.

It turned out that, as she had already feared, it was not possible for her to settle down in any of the rooms of Faerveren and Iondaer's former home. Wherever she looked, too much reminded her of her old mentor and the tragedy of her undeserved death. And even if she closed her eyes, the sounds and smells of the house invoked memories that had lain buried deep inside of her for a long time. And so, despite the cold of winter, it was on the dwelling's porch that she finally found some peace, the gentle murmurings of the forest acting as a soothing balm for her distressed soul.

Dawn was still a few hours away when Tauriel was roused from the half-sleep that was her preferred mode of resting by the sounds of someone stirring inside the house. When Kíli stepped out onto the porch, undoubtedly attracted by the flickering light of the small lantern she had brought outside with her, she gave him a gentle, shy smile.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice a little raspy from not having used it for many hours.

His answering smile was gentle, like hers, but also a little reserved. "Fine," he said, but then corrected himself. "Well, better than I did this morning, anyway. Thank you for restocking the fire – I did not even hear you come in."

There was no trace of accusation in his voice, but Tauriel could not help but feel a little ashamed once more at having left him completely by himself for such a long time. "It was quite late when I returned," she said, her eyes cast down. Then she shook herself and sought his gaze. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I should not have stayed away for as long as I did. I got somewhat distracted and walked much further than I had planned to."

He shook his head. "It is fine," he said, and then, with a self-conscious grin, "I thought maybe you had run off to find some more inspiring company than one miserable dwarf."

It was phrased as a joke, but Tauriel could tell that there was at least some truth to his words and that he had not been entirely sure she would return. Which made her guilt so much worse. "Kíli," she said with such insistence that he was forced to look at her. "I would never leave you behind like that. Never."

He looked at her for a couple of seconds and then nodded, but averted his gaze once more, making Tauriel doubt whether he truly believed her.

"When I returned, I thought the same of you for a moment," she admitted, hoping that if they continued to talk, they might break through this barrier which currently existed between them. When he looked at her with confusion in his eyes, she added, "That you had gone, I mean."

He seemed truly taken aback by her admission. "Oh," he said, frowning at the floor for a good long while before locking eyes with her once more, his stare hard and serious. "I, too, couldn't leave you like that – and I won't."

The intensity in his eyes when he said those words caused a shiver to run down Tauriel's spine and she found herself unable to break away from his gaze. It was him who finally broke their eye contact to stare off into the night. In the light from the small lantern she thought that his face was a little flushed and indeed he seemed intent on changing the topic with his next words.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked. "It is absolutely freezing out here."

Tauriel smiled slightly, torn between joy at discovering that this spark that once existed between them was still there after all and sorrow at how uncomfortable it seemed to be making Kíli. She decided to indulge him for now, though, instead of confronting the issue.

"I can feel the cold just as you do," she replied in answer to his question, "and yet it cannot hurt me. Besides," she added, "I have this to keep me warm." She gestured towards a small kettle she had placed on a tea warmer in order to keep the brew she had made from going cold. "Would you like some?"

He hesitated but then nodded and stepped forward to accept the mug that she had poured him. Tauriel watched him cradle it his hands for a few moments, absorbing the warmth, before taking a sip. He coughed and drew a face.

"This is terrible," he complained and Tauriel laughed, happy to be discussing something as mundane as the taste of a beverage for a change.

"It is quite bitter when you are not used to it," she agreed, still laughing. "It gets better after a while," she assured him.

He frowned a little disbelievingly, but obediently took another sip, his face contorting not quite as badly as it had when he had first tried the tea. He leaned against the wall next to the bench that Tauriel sat on and they fell into a silence that was companionable at first but somehow turned uncomfortable the more time passed. There were too many things left unsaid, Tauriel supposed, for them to pretend as if all was fine and well. While the blackness of the night gradually lifted to be replaced by the cold gray of the very early hours of the morning, they both began to shift uneasily in their positions.

"I'm so sorry," they both said at exactly the same moment. And then, in astonished unison, "What do you have to be sorry for?"

They laughed together then, and Kíli shook his head at the silliness of the situation. "I will go first, shall I?"

Tauriel smiled and nodded.

"I meant to say that I am sorry," Kíli continued, "that you feel obliged to be here, with me, when you deserve so much more."

Tauriel was taken aback. "And what do I deserve?" she asked.

Kíli looked as confused by her words as she felt by his. "Your position in the guard, of course. Your old life – your life before everything fell to pieces because of… well, because of _me_."

Tauriel could not help but narrow her eyes at him. "Kíli, back at Dale I told you that I did not regret going after you. I wasn't lying to you."

"And I did not mean to imply that you were," Kíli hurriedly assured her. "But the fact you do not regret what happened does not mean that you are not allowed to want your old life back. Or do you really claim that you do not wish yourself back into your king's good graces?"

Tauriel stared at him for several seconds, wondering how she was supposed to explain to Kíli that the mere fact of being in her king's 'good graces' did not necessarily mean that life as one of his subjects was particularly rewarding. How for years she had tried anything in her power to please Thranduil and had in return been made to feel somewhat deficient again and again. How she had not even minded that until she had met _him_ and discovered that it was in fact possible for someone to care for her without reservations. But since this would have meant openly discussing their feelings for one another, she opted for a different approach to the matter.

"You speak of my 'old life' as if it were a discarded garment that I might simply pick up and decide to wear again," she said, hoping that the metaphor she used would make it easier for him to grasp what she was trying to make him understand. "But that is not how it works, is it? Too much has changed for me to simply slip back into my old position, to just continue where I left things. _I_ have changed. And my old life simply would not fit me anymore, I believe."

"Call it differently then, if the phrase bothers you," Kíli returned stubbornly. "But would you not rather be at the palace right now instead of out here?"

"Wouldn't you?" Tauriel retorted, sensing that he would not so easily be convinced that she could care less whether she was at Thranduil's court or out here as long as it meant that he was there as well, alive and arguing with her.

Her question seemed to truly take him by surprise. ""What would I want _there,_ of all places?"

Now it was her turn to remain stubborn. "Well, that was part of the bargain you convinced Thranduil of, was it not?"

"It was," Kíli answered, "but that was only for your sake, of course. I do not care at all where I am. And while I am still more than a little suspicious about your king's motives for leaving us out here, I am honestly glad for every minute I do not have to spend under that nose of his that he carries so highly." Tauriel laughed out loud at that which made Kíli chuckle in turn. "Is that what you meant when you said you were sorry? That I am missing out on my time at Thranduil's court?"

"Well, if you put it like that, it _does_ sound a little bit silly," Tauriel admitted. "But you have to believe me when I tell you that I feel the same. I have no real desire to be a captain in Thranduil's guard anymore. I am glad that – thanks to you – my banishment has been revoked. But that does not mean that everything that has taken place can be simply forgotten. I would not want that, even if it were possible." _Because it would mean that what happened between us would also be forgotten,_ she wanted to add, but could not find the courage to. So she hoped that he understood her meaning without her explicitly stating it.

Kíli looked at her long and hard with eyes that, for a moment, appeared wise beyond his years. Then he nodded in acceptance. Leaning his head back against the wall he looked out at the tree line, which was beginning to take shape once more in the murky light of early dawn, once corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile. "We're quite the pair, aren't we," he said in an attempt at lightheartedness. "Each of us blaming ourselves for our situation when the other does not even really mind."

Tauriel inclined her head and gave a soft chuckle. Inside of her, however, a nervous knot had formed that clutched at her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She tried to force it back down, told herself that he needed more time, but found herself unable to hold back any longer. Summoning all her courage she asked, "Are we, though?"

Kíli blinked. "Are we what?"

Tauriel took a deep breath. She still thought she should abandon the issue, but if she wanted to stay sane, she simply needed to know before she drove herself mad with constant speculations about what exactly they were to each other. "You said we were quite the pair," she reminded him, her voice only the tiniest bit shaky. "But are we?"

Now she was certain that she had his complete attention. If she herself had not been so terribly nervous, she might have thought his startled expression almost comical. "Tauriel…," he fumbled for words, but fell silent again, staring at her.

A selfish, insecure part of herself felt a bit hurt by the fact that he did not immediately jump to reassure her of the endurance of his feelings. "When you gave me your rune stone," she continued since he would not, "you said it was a promise. A promise of what exactly?"

He looked a bit tortured now. "You know what I meant it to be a promise for," he said, evading her gaze.

"Then what has changed?" she asked, a lump forming in her throat. Was he really saying that he did not feel anymore what he had so clearly felt back then?

"Nothing!" Kíli hurriedly exclaimed, but then bit his lip. "And yet everything." He looked at her, his eyes wide with sadness. "I've already caused you so much misery. As I have for everyone else in my life. Don't you see that all I would ever bring you is pain?"

Tauriel exhaled. At least he had not said that his feelings had changed – yet. "Did we not just agree that it does not matter to me that I am no longer who and what I once was?"

Kíli frowned deeply. "But what about what is still to come?"

From the look in his eyes, Tauriel could tell that he earnestly believed himself to be something like a bad talisman. "Kíli," she said emphatically, "I understand that you feel guilt over the deaths of your uncle and brother. That does not mean that I believe them to be your fault in any way, but that is simply what happens to us who survive, is it not? We constantly ask ourselves if we could have done something differently, if we could have prevented those we love from getting hurt."

She briefly thought of her parents and how she had never been able to entirely shake the notion that what had happened to them had somehow been her fault even though rationally she knew that a child as young as she had been could in no way be blamed for such senseless violence.

Looking at Kíli, who was staring at his feet, she continued. "I will not ask you to stop feeling that way about your family. But I will ask you to stop torturing yourself for my sake – for there is nothing you have done or could do that would cause me pain." _Except if you turn away from me now_ , she thought, _for then my heart would surely shatter._

Kíli pressed his lips together stubbornly. "You cannot know that."

Tauriel was beginning to feel exasperated. Impulsively, she reached for his hand. His fingers were cold, which did not surprise her, given the fact that the air was no less icy now than it had been all night. For a moment she thought he would pull away, but her grip was as firm as it was gentle, and so he let her hold onto him for now. She tugged at his hand to make him look her in the eye. "What if I do?" she asked. "What if I do know that there is nothing you could ever do that would make me regret the path that I chose – that _we_ chose."

"Again – there is no way for you to know that," he returned, but Tauriel could tell from the look in his eyes that he wanted to believe her, that he desperately needed for her words to be true.

She scooted a little closer, looking up at Kíli from her position on the bench. "You make me feel alive," she said, echoing the words he had once chosen himself when she had been the one who had been reluctant to allow what was between them to grow for fear of being consumed by it.

" _Amrâlimê_ ," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. Tauriel could not be sure if he was addressing her past or present self. The only thing that mattered to her right then and there was that the walls he had begun to erect in order to shut her out seemed to be crumbling down. So she scooted a little closer still, her fingers entwining with his.

Slowly, hesitantly, Kíli ran his thumb across the back of her hand, her eyes almost fluttering closed when he did so. But she fought to maintain their eye contact, fearing that should it break, she might lose him again to self-doubt and bitterness.

She watched him swallow against an apparent lump in his throat and when he opened his mouth to speak, her heart was threatening to simply jump out of her chest from anxiousness about what he might say next. His next words might be what would decide their fate – _her_ fate. Before a sound made it past his lips, they were both startled by a sound coming from the edge of the forest.

Kíli and Tauriel each turned their head into the direction the noise – barely more than a soft rustling of leaves – had come from, letting go of each other's hands at the same time. They watched Elhadron emerge from the tree line, pausing for a moment until he could be certain they had seen him. He raised a hand in greeting.

Tauriel wondered how long he had been there already, hidden from sight, and if he had overheard any of the things that had just been said between her and Kíli, for she was certain that the noise they had both heard had been produced by the elf on purpose in order to alert them to his presence. Quickly she wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, making sure that none of the tears which had been beginning to form in the corners of her eyes had spilled onto her cheeks.

"He really was being rather literal when he said he would be back 'on the morrow', wasn't he," Kíli muttered next to her, his exasperated tone bringing a small smile to her face.

"Indeed he is a man of his word," she confirmed, trying not to show her disappointment at being interrupted now of all times.

They both watched Elhadron approach the Swallow's Nest, two more guards whom Tauriel was not familiar with appearing behind him with large baskets strapped onto their backs. It really did seem that the king intended for them to remain here for quite some time.

She glanced at Kíli out of the corner of her eye, wondering if he was drawing the same conclusions and how he felt about those. Just then it had seemed that she was finally getting through to him, but at the same time his grief and self-reproach were so very tangible even now that she could not be entirely sure that she might not lose him to them after all.

When Kíli straightened up while Elhadron ascended the stairs leading up to the house, Tauriel studied him closely and tried very hard not to feel hurt by the fact that he seemed almost relieved at not having to finish their conversation. The young dwarf briefly nodded at their guest. "I'll put some more wood on the fire," he said and turned to disappear into the house.

Tauriel was already telling herself that it was no wonder that he should want to escape, that she had pushed him too far, too quickly. But then, with one foot already on the threshold, Kíli paused. For a few seconds Tauriel watched him linger, his lips pressed together. When he finally spoke, he turned his head in her direction, but did not meet her gaze.

"I meant it," he said, his voice raw with feeling. "I meant it then, and I mean it still. But… I can't, Tauriel. Not yet. I just _can't_."

That last part sounded almost like a plea and Tauriel felt her eyes immediately fill with tears once more, his enormous pain so very tangible to her. He did not wait for her reply and vanished inside the house. But it did not make much of a difference to her, for she felt that there was nothing she could have said that could have helped him, nothing that could have alleviated his pain. She had already said so much today, much more than she had wanted to and maybe even a little bit more than she should have. And still, s _till_ , he seemed convinced that he ought to stay away from her, that he somehow did not deserve to seek the comfort she knew she could give him.

" _Amrâlimê_ ," she breathed, knowing that he would not be able to hear her. Rising from her seat, she once more ran the back of her hand across her eyes before turning her back to the house to greet Elhadron. While she mustered a smile for her friend she tried to console herself by thinking that it was not too late yet, that in time Kíli might find it in his heart to forgive himself and allow himself to be with her the way – she now realized – she desperately wanted him to be.

And time, after all, was something that they appeared to have in abundance, she realized with a nervous flutter in her chest as she took in the quite large amount of provisions Elhadron and his elves were currently carrying up to their doorstep.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I'm posting two chapters today, this being the first one. They were orginally one endlessly long chapter, but for the sake of readability I decided to split it into two. Some sweet moments here - hope you enjoy._

 **Chapter 10**

Kíli stared at the flames as they hissed, and licked, and cracked, consuming the wood he had just placed inside the fireplace hungrily, quickly, and completely. He could feel their heat against his skin, but it seemed as if their warmth could not reach any deeper than that, for on the inside he felt frozen and empty.

Minutes ago – or had it been longer than that aready? – he had felt that small flame which had once resided in his chest rear its head again, ignited by the spark of Tauriel's soft touch against his hand and her words – longed for and yet unexpected – in his ear. Briefly it had seemed that there was indeed a light that might guide him from the darkness which surrounded him. With him at her side, and she at his, might they not be able to conquer all of their grief, their heartache, and make a life out of the rubble of their shared existence?

 _Yes!_ , an old, familiar voice inside his head had exclaimed. _What are you waiting for, you fool?_

Quickly, though, that new but so very powerful, sinister being which had recently taken up residence in both his mind and his soul had swooped in and had smothered that happy, hopeful flame with its agony, its despair, its guilt. He who had failed everyone he cared about did not deserve such happiness and if, despite that, he were to strive for it, both he and Tauriel would be punished with more sorrow, more strife, more death.

He had been too much of a coward to look her in the eye when he had given her to understand that right now he could not give her what she was asking of him. He knew that when faced with the pain he knew he was causing her, he might falter in his resolution. If he was honest with himself, every part of him was desperately seeking for a reason to give into her persuasive arguments and to simply drop all of his defenses and find comfort in her arms. And so he had avoided looking at her altogether and had fled the scene, no doubt leaving her behind with an aching heart.

With his elbows resting on his knees, Kíli buried his face in his palms, barely succeeding at suppressing a tortured groan. This was not at all how he had envisioned things to progress between Tauriel and himself when they had still been on their way to Mirkwood. But of course he should have known that what was between them would not simply fade away unnoticed and give way to an easy, uncomplicated friendship. He could not have taken into account the fact that they would be spending an awful lot of time alone together, for he had not known that then. Still, he should neither have underestimated the depth of their feelings nor the effect that they had on each other.

And now… well, now everything was in a bloody big mess and he had no idea how they would be able to go on from here. It felt that no matter what he did, he could only make things much, much more painful for either of them.

Since the moment that he had seen Fíli fall back at Ravenhill, missing his brother had become such a constant in his life that he did not even take explicit notice of the feeling anymore. Now, however, he acutely longed for Fíli's presence at his side, for his counsel and advice. For Fíli had always been better at sorting out not just his own feelings, but also those of his younger brother. Where Kíli was hotheaded and passionate, Fíli had been reasonable and perceptive, thereby balancing his brother's tendency to get himself in trouble and more than once saving him from a fair amount of heartache.

With slightly painful clarity, Kíli remembered the first time he had been in love. Or rather, the first time he had believed himself in love, for he knew from his recent acquaintance with a certain elf-maid that, until now, he had not even experienced an approximation of actual love for a woman, but had merely been infatuated with the idea of finding another person to love, to covet, to cherish. Be that as it may, the memory of his first – failed – attempt at finding romantic love was a quite powerful one still.

Her name had been Sassa and she had been the daughter of a blacksmith, a fearsome dwarf who had more than once (and very convincingly) threatened to break several of Kíli's bones for sneaking into his workshop to get his hands on the weapons he was crafting. Kíli had been quite young then, not yet of age by dwarven standards, and while he had already been trained in the art of armed fighting, he had not yet been allowed to carry a weapon of his own. Because of this circumstance, any opportunity to try out a nice sword or a good, heavy axe had been quite welcome to him.

Over time, Kíli had not even really heard the blacksmith's threats anymore, too busy had he been basking in the smiles that his lovely daughter was sending in his direction and the way her eyes sparkled with laughter each time that Kíli had once again managed to send her father's blood boiling. Sassa's hair had been raven-black and her skin pale and creamy, her still rather slight figure promising to develop the exact curves and proportions dwarves usually looked for in their women.

Kíli had not known much about this girl, this lovely creature, but he had not needed to, the brightness of her smile and the warmth in her eyes sufficient to convince his adolescent heart that they were meant to be and that he would never love another. Just as fierce as his adoration of Sassa had been his despair when he had found out from her friend – who also happened to be a distant cousin of his – that her affections where directed at someone else.

That the one he himself had been so utterly taken with should not even spare him so much as a thought had come as a complete shock to his still very young soul and he had responded in the manner that most youths would – namely by turning his hurt pride and sadness into anger at everything and everyone around him, including himself. He had already been on the brink of doing something very, very stupid and, more so, dangerous when Fíli had found him.

A mile or two north of their village, a deep ravine had cut through the woods, its walls steep and rocky and in most places impassable. When you would trail along the edge of this seemingly bottomless abyss for another mile or so, there had been an old, threadbare rope bridge leading across to the other side. Neither Fíli nor Kíli or anyone else they had ever spoken to had known who had originally built this bridge. It had not been dwarves; that much they had been able to tell from the design of the bridge.

Before either of the two brothers had been born, young dwarves had used the bridge as an opportunity to prove their courage to each other. After a very tragic, unnecessary death, though, even the most reckless of young dwarves had refrained from such ventures and the bridge had become forgotten by most. At least until the day when Kíli, fuelled by the sting of rejection and a bottle of wine he had stolen from his mother's kitchen, had decided to take on the challenge of crossing the bridge as so many had done before him.

Kíli cringed at the memory, for while he had done many reckless things in his life, this had been by far the most useless, selfish one. He was convinced that, had Fíli not found and stopped him in time, his bones would today be rotting at the bottom of the ravine. As it was, his older brother had come to him in his time of need – as he always had when Kíli had needed him at his side.

Fíli had consoled Kíli, had taken that bottle away from him and had listened to his ramblings about that girl whom Kíli thought he loved. Most importantly, though, he had taken Kíli's heartache seriously and had not attempted to play down the depth of his younger brother's despair. Hearing himself talk about his feelings, however, Kíli himself had eventually begun to doubt their authenticity. If he and Sassa where truly meant for each other, why was there not a single thing that he could with certainty say about her except that she was beautiful?

They had sat there, overlooking the ravine for a long time and when they had risen to return to their village, the storm that had raged inside Kíli's soul before had calmed and he had found himself laughing at his brother's jokes once more and making plans for the future which did not revolve about Sassa and her pretty smile. Those plans had of course been put on temporary hold by the punishment he had received from his mother for stealing the bottle of wine and making her worry about him all day. But Kíli had not minded that so very much, the knowing grin that his brother had flashed him from across the room reminding him that while this might not exactly be the greatest day in his life, the experience had deepened the bond that they shared, had brought them closer together still.

It had been many, many years later, when the smile of the blacksmith's daughter had been barely more than a shadow upon his memory, that Kíli had learned by accident that the one that she had preferred to him had in fact been no other than Fíli himself. And while his adolescent self would probably have been mortified and angered by this fact, his more mature self had been able to appreciate and admire the selfless loyalty with which Fíli had navigated this situation at such a young age. Other brothers might have been driven apart by the trials and tribulations of adolescent love, but Fíli, by putting his brother's well-being above his own, had actually fortified their bond.

Kíli had never mentioned the subject to his brother and now he felt that maybe he should have, that he should have let Fíli know that this and the many other sacrifices he had made for Kíli's sake had not gone unnoticed. But of course it was too late now and so all that remained for Kíli was to hope that Fíli had died knowing how much he had loved him and that for all of his life he had tried his best to be as good a brother to Fíli as he had been to him.

While he sat there, staring into the embers, the house around Kíli appeared quite busy – a stark contrast to the lonely hours of the night before. As it was customary for Elves they barely made a sound as they moved about, but Kíli could nevertheless sense their presence, heard a soft rustling of fabric somewhere behind him or felt a pair of eyes linger on his turned back more than once. He thought about offering his help with whatever it was that they were doing, but found that he simply lacked the energy to move at all, much less to deal with the often queer ways of Elves – Tauriel not included, of course.

When he finally surfaced from a mixture of sleep and daydreams of the past, the Swallow's Nest had gone quiet. Suppressing a groan he pushed himself off the floor, his muscles stiff from sitting on hard wood for so long. His wound also stung quite a bit and he grudgingly admitted to himself that he would need to ask Tauriel to tend to it eventually. How he was however supposed to face her after what had transpired between them this morning, he had no idea.

He silently walked through the house, glancing into abandoned rooms. The house was nice, he had to admit, its interior much less aloof than he would have expected of an Elven home after his visit to both Rivendell and Thranduil's royal caverns. The furniture was sparse but comfortable and almost every surface was adorned with a selection of books, a pot of herbs or an unfamiliar plant, some needlework or half-finished project. You could see that the house's owners had truly _lived_ here, their traces visible everywhere.

It was also evident though, Kíli noticed, that new life was finding its way into the Swallow's Nest. On a table in the kitchen he saw baskets full of fruit, vegetables and other food. Sacks containing nuts, grains, and flour sat on the counter, waiting to be stowed away. The windows at the front of the house stood open, letting in cool air but also rays of sunshine – the cold and misty morning had given way to a beautiful winter's day. Making his way towards the back of the house, Kíli saw that in one of the smaller rooms a narrow bed had been equipped with pillows, furs and woolen blankets – for his own use, he supposed.

A splashing sound drew his attention and, following it, he found what was clearly a type of bathroom with a large wooden tub that reminded Kíli a little bit of an oversized barrel at its far end. As everywhere in the house, herbs lined the window sills, tabletops and shelves, their fresh smell entering his nostrils and making him feel oddly calm. The sound he had heard had been created by a bucket of steaming water Tauriel was currently emptying into the bathtub. She was wearing a simple gown of an unsettlingly fine fabric which flowed freely about her legs, revealing bare ankles and feet underneath. Her hair was quite undone and the endlessly long locks tumbled freely down her shoulders, the tips of some strands wet from where they had touched the water's surface.

Her sight entranced him, but at the same time he was utterly mortified at walking in on her and disturbing her privacy and he made to retreat silently. He did not succeed, of course, for she had noticed him already and turned to face him. She smiled a little hesitantly, clearly as uncertain as he was himself about how they should act around one another after what each of them had revealed to the other that morning. Kíli noticed her crossing her arms in front of her body self-consciously, which in turn caused the flush that had already begun to creep over his face to deepen.

"I'm sorry," he said, wondering how many times he had said those words to her in the last few days. "I will go and let you take your bath."

She held up a hand. "No," she said, "don't go." Gesturing towards the steaming tub, she added, "It's for you. I already had mine."

"Oh," was all Kíli managed to say, his cursed mind conjuring up images of Tauriel's long, slender limps stretched out in that tub. He shook himself. "Thank you," he said, and tried his best to smile at her and look her in the eye while he did so. He did not entirely succeed in either, his smile feeling like a grimace on his face and his gaze not quite making it past her chin.

Still, her answering smile was warm. "Take your time," she said as she floated past him. "And call for me should you need more hot water. There is still some left in the kettle."

A little perplexed still, Kíli watched her vanish through the doorway. He turned to glance at the bathtub a little skeptically, but then he shrugged inwardly and slowly began to remove his clothing, taking care not to put too much strain on his wound. He was in desperate need of a bath anyway, so why decline this unexpected opportunity?

As he stepped into the tub he was unable to stop a sigh from escaping his lips when the warmth of the water permeated every cell of his body, helping his tense muscles relax. Sitting down and leaning back against the edge of the tub, he watched as the water rinsed grime and dirt off his skin and half wished that it might do the same for his memories, might cleanse his soul of the many gruesome things he had seen.

For a while he allowed himself to simply soak in the water. In addition to some soap which had caused a certain amount of soft white foam to cover the water's surface, Tauriel had added several herbs, he noticed, and he supposed that they were somehow advancing the relaxing effect of the bath, their smell spicy and pleasant without clouding his senses too much. He ran both hands across his face, washing away blood, and sweat, and tears. With a frown he realized that he should probably also wash his hair.

He reached for a small, empty bowl that sat on a shelf next to the tub and, filling it with water, slowly poured it over his head. The task of getting his hair properly wet was a laborious one though, since raising his arms above the level of his shoulders caused his wound to ache quite a bit, making it hard to breathe. When he was finished he glanced at the bar of soap Tauriel had left on the tub's rim, but decided that he would need to take a little break before he could begin lathering his now thoroughly wet locks, his head spinning a little from putting too much strain on his shoulder and chest.

With a tired sigh he leaned back against the edge of the tub. He was not sure if maybe he had passed out for a few seconds when suddenly he was startled by the appearance of a shadow at his shoulder. He blinked in surprise and looked up to see Tauriel reach for the bar of soap. He made to sit up, but she stilled him with a feather-light touch against his wet shoulder.

"Rest," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let me help you."

Mesmerized, Kíli watched her as she gently rubbed the bar of soap between her palms before putting it aside and proceeding to kneel down behind him. Hesitantly at first but then more confidently with each passing second she began to knead the soap into his scalp and his hair, strand by strand. Kíli dared not move, partly out of fear that the tiniest movement on his part might cause the foam on the water's surface to shift, exposing more of himself than he was currently willing to reveal. Also, he was afraid that he might disrupt the odd peace of the moment, a tiny island of solace in a sea of constant strife and sorrow.

Kíli could have forever sat there with Tauriel's slender fingers working their way across his head, but eventually she was finished with her task and he heard rather than saw her place a bucket or larger bowl of some sort below his head so that it caught the water that was dripping from his hair. With the smaller bowl he had used before she started to rinse the soap from his hair. All of this she did in complete silence and when she was done Kíli desperately tried to think of something to say to her, but once again found that words failed him.

For what seemed like a long time, Tauriel remained in her position behind him and Kíli supposed that she, too, was looking for words that might somehow ease the tension brought by their conversation this very morning. Like himself, though, she appeared unable address the many unspoken issues between them. Kíli dared not move and for several minutes the only sound in the room was produced by the water still dripping from his hair and into the bowl on the ground.

Eventually Tauriel shifted and from the corner of his eye Kíli saw her reach for a towel. Gently she began to squeeze the water from his hair. The towel was warm for some reason and as the soft fabric touched his head, Kíli felt goosebumps erupt all over his body. He had not noticed until now that the water inside the bath had slowly been getting cold, too mesmerized had he been by the feeling of Tauriel's hands in his hair.

When she was finished with the towel, she moved around to the side of the tub. With a quick glance at the water's surface, Kíli assured himself that soapy foam still concealed most of his body. Nevertheless, he could feel heat rise in his cheeks from having Tauriel so close to himself with so little between them in terms of physical barriers. At least, he noticed, she had exchanged that alluring dress from before for more substantial clothing, closely resembling the garments she had been wearing when they had first met.

It was hard to tell in the slightly dim light entering through the relatively small window, but he thought that Tauriel's cheeks, too, were covered in a slight blush. Still kneeling next to the tub, her gaze was studiously fixed on the wound on his upper body. Kíli remained very still when she reached out and gently touched his injured skin. As she increased her pressure, he could however not suppress a sharp hiss.

Tauriel sat back on her heels, her expression not entirely happy. "The tissue has become slightly inflamed," she said. She bit her lip. "This is my fault. I should have had a look at it right away when we arrived here."

"No," Kíli hurried to object, "please don't think that. I'm the one who should have taken better care of myself. But I did not even really think about it since last night, to be honest."

Which was true. He had been much too wrapped up in his own grief and their shared heartache to stop and assess his physical condition. Regardless of that fact, he did not feel all that poorly anyway. But from the frown on Tauriel's face he could tell that she was not even really listening to him. She had risen from the ground as was now gathering a couple of items from a set of shelves across the room.

"Finish your bath," she said, "and then come see me immediately." Before Kíli could attempt to make eye contact with her and insist that she was in no way to blame for any worsening of his condition, she had crossed the room and was headed for the door. When she passed the pile of his discarded clothes, however, she paused. "Elhadron has brought new things for you to wear – they should fit you better than the ones the healers dressed you in at Dale. I shall leave them by the door."

And with that she was gone. Kíli could not quite decide whether he was sad or glad that this surreal, almost painfully intimate moment between them had come to such an abrupt ending. He told himself to be glad, for after all he had gone to great lengths this very morning in order to convince Tauriel that they should not be together in _that_ way. And still he was unable to deny that he would have given practically anything to feel her hands on his bare skin once more, to experience the thrill of being so close to her as he lay there, the evidence of what her touch was doing to him barely concealed by a few soapy bubbles.

Rubbing his palms across his face a couple of times, he exhaled, willing the thoughts that were running wild in his head to ebb away. Denying both his heart and his soul their deepest desire by forbidding himself from being with Tauriel was one thing – living with the enormous amounts of unresolved tension that existed between them another. All he could do, it seemed, was to hope that this tension would not one day drive one of them – or both, more likely – to do something they might come to regret later.

 _Then again, how could you ever regret anything pertaining to this beautiful being?,_ a devious voice piped up inside Kíli's head.

He groaned in frustration and firmly pushed himself into an upright position, causing some of the water inside the tub to spill onto the floor. He was done torturing himself for the moment. Drying himself off with the towel Tauriel had left behind, he quickly fetched the pile of clothes she had promised him.

A quick examination of the garments he had been provided with told him that this was rather a selection of clothes than just one outfit. In all likelihood Elhadron and his men had been unsure what would fit him and so they had left it to him to choose. Kíli appreciated the gesture, even though a cursory glance was enough to realize that these clothes were quite different from what he was accustomed to. The fabrics were much finer, thinner, the decorative elements very sparse and delicate. He held up a shirt and frowned at how slim it appeared.

The shiver running down his damp, bare back was what quickly made him forget his vanity and choose a couple of garments. He donned a pale grey shirt with a slightly odd v-shaped neckline but did not bother doing it all the way up since he knew Tauriel would want to dress his wound soon anyway. Over it he pulled a woolen vest of an almost black, slightly bluish shade, which almost reached down to his knees. There were matching trousers to go with the tunic and he was surprised how comfortably they fit him despite their formfitting look that would take much getting used to. They were too long, of course, but he figured that it would be no problem to shorten them. For now he simply rolled up the legs.

There were other items such as a coat which Kíli hoped was warmer than it looked, a belt, gloves, a few spare shirts and tunics, socks, and something that Kíli supposed was the Elven version of undergarments. He snorted and put the pile of clothes aside for now. A pair of boots had been sitting next to it at the entrance to the bathroom, but he was not sure about them. They looked comfortable, but altogether too soft and not very warm. He decided to stick with his own, sturdy footwear for the time being.

He was quite glad that there was no mirror in the room or anywhere else in the house that he was aware of for surely he looked completely ridiculous. A dwarf dressed as an elf. He could almost hear his brethren explode with laughter. With a slight pang in his chest he remembered that they would never see him like this – a fact he should be grateful for, but still the reality of the decision he had made had the potential to overwhelm him at every step he took.

Pushing those thoughts away for now, Kíli composed himself and finally exited the room in search of Tauriel. A part of him would have preferred to keep his distance until he had sorted through his feelings about their intimate moment during his bath, but for one thing Tauriel had been quite insistent that he should come find her and also that particular force inside of him that he had come to associate with her kept driving him towards her, no matter if he wanted to or not.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: The second chapter I'm uploading today. Make sure to read Chapter 10 before you start with this one!_

 **Chapter 11**

Kíli found Tauriel in the room where he had spent the previous night and the greater part of his day. Her back was turned to him and he could see that she was busy cutting up ingredients, putting them in an earthenware bowl that she had place next to her. He could hear her murmur to herself in Elvish and he wondered if she was merely reminding herself of the instructions for whatever it was that she was mixing or if her words carried the same magic that he had been touched by when she had healed him in Bard's house.

Either way, he found it mesmerizing to watch her work in concentration. She did not acknowledge his presence, but he suspected that she knew he was there, as she always seemed to do. And indeed she did not even flinch when he finally addressed her.

"Where do you want me?" he asked.

Tauriel stilled in her movements and Kíli immediately bit his tongue when he realized the suggestive wording of his perfectely innocent question. Tauriel spared him the embarrassment of calling him out on it, but he thought he saw a slight flush creep past the neckline of her green dress. _Well done_ , he chastised himself. _So much for doing away with all this tension._

After another moment, Tauriel gestured towards a stool at the end of the work bench she was currently standing at. "Take a seat, please. I will be ready in a second."

Kíli perched himself atop the stool which he found to be rather high. He felt a bit silly sitting there with his feet dangling in the air. Like a child waiting for their mother to patch up a skinned knee or some other minor mishap. Except, of course, that his injury was anything but a minor mishap. Also, the feelings he harbored for his caregiver could be no further from maternal than they currently were.

As promised, Tauriel did not make him wait for very long and quickly appeared at his side with the small bowl cradled between her hands. As she placed it on the work bench, Kíli saw that she had mixed a paste dark brown in color. He wrinkled his nose, for its smell was quite intense.

"I am sorry about the smell," Tauriel remarked when she noticed his reaction. "The paste's effect is as just strong as its odor is bad though. It should draw out the infection even before it has had time to truly develop."

Kíli nodded. "Do not worry about it. My nose has been put to worse trials than this."

Tauriel smiled and gestured for him to move his clothes so that she might access his injury. Taking a damp cloth, she began to apply the paste to his skin, layer by layer. "What terrible torments did your poor nose have to endure so far?" she asked, her tone light.

Kíli knew she was merely trying to distract him from the burning pain that her medicine caused where it came into contact with his wounded flesh and he gladly followed her invitation into a conversation that was more lighthearted than anything that had been said between them since Ravenhill.

"I was almost eaten by trolls once," he said. "And some of my friends got slobbered on by them quite a bit. That smell I will most definitely not forget for a long time to come. Have you ever met a mountain troll?"

Tauriel laughed a little. "I cannot say that I have had the pleasure," she answered his question.

"Well, let me tell you then," Kíli continued, enjoying being able to make her laugh for a change, "that the only thing that smells worse than their drool are their caves. You'd rather stop breathing altogether than breathe in air as rank as that."

"It sounds as if you would," Tauriel replied. A bit wistfully she added, "I think it is remarkable what you have seen of this world."

Kíli frowned. "That sounds almost as if you envied me for my encounter with the trolls. Be assured though, that this envy is misplaced, for they really did smell very, very bad."

This brought back the laugh that Kíli enjoyed hearing so much. "I was being serious," Tauriel said when she had sobered up a little. "You've seen so much of this world and I – I have hardly ever traveled beyond the borders of the forest."

"It is quite a large forest though," Kíli returned, unable to resist a slight tease. He did not want Tauriel to think that he wasn't taking her seriously and so he hurried to ask, "If you could go anywhere you wanted to, where would you like to travel?"

"Everywhere," Tauriel replied with a smile. She glanced at the window for a moment, he gaze longing, hungry. "To the tops of the highest mountains. To the shores of the most distant seas. Through the deepest of valleys and down the wildest of rivers. If you have never been anywhere at all, it is quite hard to name any favorites."

Kíli wanted nothing more than to promise her that he would take her to all those places and many more, that he would not shy away from any distance, any adventure, if that was what would make her happy. But he kept his mouth shut, knowing that he might not be able to keep such promises.

If Tauriel, too, had been hoping for him to say something like that she did not show it and instead continued to work on dressing his wound in silence. That wistful little smile did not entirely leave her face, though. When she was done she straightened up and ran her hand very lightly across the bandage which now covered Kíli's injury. "We will leave this on for a day or two," she explained. "I am quite certain that it should do the trick."

"Thank you," Kíli said, catching her gaze but resisting the urge to reach for her hand or something as silly as that. "You know you are under no kind of obligation to care for me like this."

"This is where you are wrong," she returned, her jaw set firmly. And Kíli realized then that for her helping him recover from his injury had become her sole focus for the time being. And it made sense, didn't it? He had told her that he did not know whether he would ever heal from the invisible wounds that he had sustained and so she had made it her task to make sure that he would at least recover in body when he might not recover in spirit.

And so, instead of arguing with her, Kíli simply nodded in acceptance. He took a deep breath and looked up, catching her gaze. "About what I said this morning…" Tauriel looked at him expectantly and he felt his heart pound in his throat. He had no idea what he should say to her, but felt that he owed her this much, that he could not simply ignore the matter until it went away. "I- I'm sorry," he stammered, feeling like an idiot for apologizing to her _again_.

She held his gaze, but Kíli did not miss the small tremor that passed over her face. "Do you mean that you are sorry about what you said? Or are you apologizing for the way you _feel_?"

Kíli's mouth felt quite dry and he had to break away from her intense gaze, looking down at his own hands instead. "I am sorry for being such a worthless, weak fool."

He was surprised by Tauriel's hand cupping his chin, lifting his head so that he would look at her once more. Her expression was pained but gentle. "You are anything but weak or worthless. In fact, you are one of the strongest persons I have ever met. Also," he watched her blush a little shyly, "to me you are worth so very much."

He felt his chest constrict with emotion. This time he did reach for her hand, covering it with his own. "And you are to me," he said. Again his gaze faltered. He wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to forget all his reasons why he shouldn't for a few precious moments. But he found that he could not – too powerful were the demons gnawing away at his heart, at his soul.

Tauriel appeared to sense his reluctance and she slowly pulled her hand from his. Kíli's heart bled. He had meant to make her feel better and instead he had hurt her again. When he mustered the courage to look her in the eye again, he was astonished to find understanding there instead of anger or hurt.

"It's alright," she said, and Kíli felt that she truly meant it. That whatever idiotic thing he might ever do, she would be there for him, would be whatever he needed her to be. That fact – her willingness to be a friend in need to him after she had already admitted that she wanted to be so much more – paradoxically increased Kíli's desire to draw her to him and to cast all his caution to the winds.

And so he was both disappointed and relieved when Tauriel dissolved the tension of the moment by turning to clear away her medical equipment. "Elhadron brought word from Thranduil today," she said, her tone carefully neutral.

Kíli took this as a cue that for the time being they would let the matter of their hearts rest – for which he was not exactly ungrateful. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, motioning for Tauriel to elaborate on what she had just said.

"It's nothing altogether revealing, I am afraid," she said. "For the time being, we are to stay here, apparently so that you can truly heal. Once you have, we will be given further assignments."

Kíli frowned as he began to fasten up his shirt over his bandages. "That sounds as if you believe there is more to it than he is letting on."

Tauriel sighed. "Maybe." Kíli waited patiently while she appeared to gather her thoughts. "I believe that initially Thranduil had no intention of granting you your request."

"What do you think then made him change his mind?" Kíli asked.

Again, Tauriel seemed to choose her words carefully. "Thranduil is a wise king, even if you might not believe it. But he is also impulsive and easily angered. So whatever happened to alter his decision was most likely something that upset him and made him act rashly."

"And now he is regretting his choice?"

She considered this for a moment. "It seems to be the most likely explanation."

Kíli gazed out of the window, still not used to how utterly isolated they were from the rest of the world. "Do you still believe that I am in any danger? Or that you are, or that matter?"

The thought that his decision to come to Mirkwood with the Elves might endanger Tauriel in any way made it hard to breathe. Had he really been such a big fool that instead of helping her, he had made her situation even worse? The silence that followed his question did nothing to alleviate the pressure on his chest.

"No," Tauriel finally replied. "I simply believe that Thranduil is buying himself some time in which he can decide how to proceed." She fell silent once more, but Kíli could see that there was something else she wanted to say and was trying to find the right words for it. "If, however, you regret your choice and would rather return to your people after all, we might still leave without too much trouble."

Kíli stared at his hands. "No," he replied, his voice sounding raspy to his own ears. "I cannot." He wiped his eyes angrily, unwilling to let both his guilt and his grief get the better of him once again. "Also," he added when he felt a little more in control of himself once more, "a part of me still believes that something good might come out off all this after all. Don't you?"

Tauriel hesitated. "That remains to be seen," she answered diplomatically, but Kíli thought that, judging by the way in which she looked towards the direction he supposed the Elvenking's halls to be located in, she, too, had at least a little bit of hope that one day the rift that currently existed between her and her people might be mended. And this, he decided, this tiny spark of hope in her eyes, was worth any discomfort, any hardship that his reckless decisions might cost him.

He nodded. "What do you suppose we should do next, then?" he asked.

Tauriel tore her gaze away from the forest outside and smiled at him. "You," she said, "should rest and heal, more than anything else. And I will help you in any way that I can – if you will let me. Starting with preparing something for us to eat."

As if on cue, Kíli's stomach rumbled. They both laughed, which felt good, for a change. Tauriel picked up the last of the earthen bowls she had used to soak his bandages in and made to leave, heading towards the center of the house from where, Kíli knew, one of the doorways led to a kitchen.

Before his mind could interfere with what his heart thought right, he reached for her and stopped her with his hand on her waist. "Thank you," he said, managing even to look her in the eye without allowing his gaze to waver. "For everything."

"It is alright," she said once more, and again Kíli had the distinct feeling that she was talking about so much more than washing his hair, tending to his wounds or making sure that he would not starve. That she was here for him, no matter what.

He longed to be able to say something back to her that would let her know that, in any way that he could, he, too, would be there for her. But the words would not come and so he nodded meekly, his hand dropping from her waist. She sent him a small smile filled with more understanding than Kíli thought his actions towards her merited. How, yes how indeed, might he ever deserve her?


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Kíli had never been one to pay the content of his dreams much attention. Too adventurous had been his days to dwell on the journeys his mind undertook at night. When he dreamt, his dreams mostly revolved around mundane things, such as sparring with his brother, a pretty girl, childhood memories or, sometimes, visions of his future. As of late, however, he was haunted by nightmares so sinister that falling asleep had in itself become a test of his courage.

The dreams had started even before the end of the dwarves' quest, before the battle, before he had lost his uncle and watched his brother fall. Ever since he had almost slipped away into the world of shadows when he had been hit with that poisoned arrow, dark visions would sometimes come to him at night, distorted images that tortured his very soul. Since Fíli's and Thorin's death, however, the dreams came more frequently and had become even more terrible.

He was not exactly surprised that this should be the case, given the awful things he had witnessed. Still, he was bothered by the hold the darkness of his dreams appeared to have over his waking self, like a shadow on his soul that no amount of sunlight could ever truly erase.

Tonight, Kíli awoke not for the first time with a loud gasp, air rushing into his lungs and causing them to expand suddenly, painfully. He coughed and nearly choked, for while his body was now awake, his mind was still half stuck in his dream where he had been drowning in a sea of actual blood. Trying to keep his head above the surface, he had wildly reached for anything within his grasp and, his fingers brushing against bodies of others who had already lost the fight, he had panicked, causing him to lose any sense of direction, of top and bottom. The image that had finally jerked him from this nightmarish fantasy had been that of his brother, floating past him with his eyes wide open but unseeing.

Finally managing to untangle himself sufficiently from his sheets to be able to sit up in bed, Kíli looked around with haunted eyes, not entirely sure were he was for a moment. When he recognised his small room in the Swallow's Nest, he managed to calm down a little, his dream at last beginning to fade. Still his breathing came in raged gasps though and his skin was covered by a fine sheen of sweat that caused a shiver to run down his back when cool air engulfed his body.

He knew that in order to loosen the grasp his dream held him in, he would have to get out of bed for a while, for if he went back to sleep any time soon, the dream would reclaim him and force him to simply continue where he had left off.

Climbing out of bed, he tried not to make too much noise in order not to disturb Tauriel. He had not quite figured out yet whether she slept in the traditional sense, but he was sure that she, too, needed some kind of rest and the last thing he wanted, was to rob her of this. As he made his way out of his room, however, he saw light shine through a doorway a couple of rooms to his left and heard the soft rustling of parchment.

Curiously he drew near, the light and warmth radiating from the room pulling him towards it like moth to flame. He assured himself that he was still hidden in shadow before risking a glance into the room.

Tauriel knelt on the floor, leaning over a small wooden chest she had placed on a low table. The rustling sound Kíli had heard before came from that chest, he realised as he watched Tauriel sort through the contents.

After her bath earlier that day, the she-elf had never bothered to braid her hair in any of the styles Kíli had previously seen on her and now her long tresses kept tumbling over her shoulders as she peered into the chest. Kíli could have watched forever as she kept brushing them back impatiently, the firelight making the red strands gleam like copper. It felt wrong though to spy on her like this and so Kíli decided to grant her some privacy, fetch a drink of water for himself and return to his own room. Before he had fully turned, however, Tauriel addressed him, reminding him once more to never underestimate an elf's sense of hearing.

"You will catch a cold," she said, her voice utterly calm. "If you do want to wander the house at night, come do it in here where it is warm."

Kíli felt quite embarrassed as he finally stepped into the light. "I did not mean to disturb you," he apologised, "nor to spy on you, for that matter."

Tauriel looked over her shoulder and sent him a small smile. "And I would accuse you of neither."

Slowly Kíli crossed into the room, still feeling rather self-conscious. Not knowing what else to do, he came to stand in front of the small fireplace, gratefully soaking up the warmth. He let his gaze travel across the room. Clearly it was a library, the shelves covering every available inch of wall filled with what had to be hundreds of books. Across from the fireplace, two heavy armchairs invited anyone who entered the room to sit down and lose themselves in whatever volume they chose from the extensive collection.

On the low table that separated the armchairs and the fireplace – the one Tauriel had placed the wooden chest on – several books had been organised into piles of different heights, their pages marked with what appeared to be dried leaves. Another sign, Kíli thought sadly, that the house's owners had been plucked from their life quite suddenly.

He felt Tauriel's eyes upon him. He did not want to lapse into another discussion of the sorry state he was in and the reasons why he dreaded going back to sleep. And so he spoke before she could, hoping to lead their conversation down another path.

"What is it that you were looking at?" he asked, inclining his head towards the mysterious chest.

He was surprised to see her blush slightly, taken by surprise by his question. Until now he had supposed that the chest simply contained a collection of recipes for medicines or something of that sort, but, judging by Tauriel's reaction, that was clearly not the case. He watched her bite her lip and hesitate and he was quite sure that she debated whether or not to tell him the truth.

She exhaled and closed her eyes for a second before answering. "It is letters, mostly, and diary entries. The chest belonged to one of the healers who lived here."

"To Faerveren?" Kíli asked. "The one who was your teacher once?"

If Tauriel was surprised by his knowledge of this circumstance she did not let it on. "Yes," she nodded. "She kept many memories in here, mostly about her husband, Iondaer. Their love was very special..." Tauriel's voice trailed off, her expression melancholic. Then she shook herself. "Either way, those are private documents. I should never have started to look at them in the first place. Please don't think badly of me for doing so."

"I could never do that," Kíli returned immediately. He caught her gaze and for a moment their eyes locked, a sudden heat creeping up Kíli's neck that had nothing to do with the fire burning happily behind him. He wanted to say more, wanted to assure Tauriel that nothing that had passed between them since their arrival at the Swallow's Nest had any effect on the high regard in which he held her.

Before he could find the words, however, she looked away. "Still, I should put those back where I found them," she said, her cheeks slightly red as she began piling the papers back into their container.

A sheet of paper slipped from her grasp and Kíli watched it glide across the room, landing directly in front of his feet. He picked it up to pass it back to Tauriel, the parchment thick and unexpectedly soft beneath his fingers. He glanced at it, the elegant elvish script not making any sense to him.

Tauriel smiled softly as she reached for it, traces of the tender moment they had just shared still visible in her gaze. Their fingers brushed and Kíli had to fight the impulse to reach out and close his hand around hers. Tauriel's fingers lingered for a moment, but before Kíli could once more be tempted to break the promise he had made to himself to be nothing more than her friend, Tauriel frowned and abruptly pulled her hand and the letter it held towards her, examining the document more closely.

"What is it?" Kíli asked, concerned when she gave a small gasp.

"Another letter," Tauriel said, her eyes scanning the document from top to bottom. "And it is addressed to me."

She sank down on the armchair behind her, her fingers clutching the letter tightly. Kíli felt unsure how he should act – should he leave her, maybe, so that she might have an opportunity to read the letter in private?

Before he could do anything of the sort, however, Tauriel had already commenced reading. After what could only have been a few lines, she brought up one hand to cover her mouth, a small sob escaping her lips.

Kíli was at her side in a heartbeat. Nervously he put a hand on her shoulder for which she promptly reached to cover it with her own. Not knowing what else to do, he lightly squeezed her fingers in what he hoped was a comforting pressure while she finished reading the lines addressed to her.

When she was done, her fingers slipped from Kíli's grasp and she lowered the letter into her lap to stare at the flames for a moment. Of course Kíli was curious about the contents of the letter, but he did not know whether she would see it as inappropriate if he asked her about it. He did not have to wait long, however, until Tauriel picked up the document once more and, very quietly, began to translate it for him, word for word.

"Dearest Tauriel," she read, "it has been long since we have parted ways and I believe it will be longer still until you read these lines – the stars tell me that it will be so. I have had few regrets in my life, for fate had always been kind to me. If I should name but one thing that I have regretted, then it was letting you go, my dearest pupil and even dearer friend. And not because I feel that you should have continued your training – which I do, but this shall not matter now. I regret not being there for you to guide you through the turmoils of life as I thought I would be for the years you were with us.

"For while you are extraordinarily gifted and would in all likelihood have outgrown me as your teacher before too long, I always used to sense a void inside your soul that longed to be filled and I would have loved to be at your side and made sure that it was. When you left us, you did so in the belief that a place at the King's side would give you what you sought, that a king's love for his subject might satisfy your need to be loved, to be cherished.

"I, however, saw that the path you chose would be a rocky one, filled with obstacles and—it pains me to say—a fair amount of heartache. Many times since I have looked to the stars and asked them if you would find true happiness somewhere along your path. Writing these lines, I firmly believe that you will, but it will not be without struggle that your heart's desires will finally be met and I hope and pray that you will not despair, will not settle for anything less than what truly makes you happy.

"If you read this, it is very likely indeed that I have already passed from this world. I have known for a long time that the day would come and I want you to know that it is alright. Do not grieve yourself for my sake, Tauriel, for there is nothing to be sad about. My soul will not be lost in darkness, no, instead it will rest in eternity at the side of its one true mate, for as surely as I now that one day I will have to bid this world farewell, I will not need to do so on my own, but with Iondaer at my side.

"Since I cannot be there to counsel you and to help your heart see what maybe it is still blind to, I leave you all of my memories that have somehow made it onto parchment, knowing that when the time has come, fate will guide you to them. May they teach you that sometimes the path to happiness is not one that plunges straight ahead, but one that bends and turns, that dips and rises, and that love can indeed be found in the most unexpected of places."

Tauriel lowered the letter, but did not take her eyes off it. "The remainder of it is mostly farewells and endearments," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Kíli did not know what to say. That she had shared this very personal letter with him in its full length implied more trust than he felt he deserved, given that he had been so awfully unreliable in his actions towards her ever since he had come back from the brink of death. Also, he had to admit, the subject of the letter had hit a nerve, and quite painfully so. More than anyone else he had ever met, Tauriel deserved to be loved, to be shown every single day how precious she was. For a while he had thought that he should be the one to do that, but now he was not so sure anymore if he even still hade the capacity to love anyone without restraint.

He swallowed against the lump that had risen in his throat. "It appears that she thought about you often, even when you did not live here anymore," he said, hoping to avoid a discussion of what the letter actually _meant_.

Tauriel drew a shaky breath, cluthing the letter to her chest as if the action might somehow bring her closer to its author. "It appears she did indeed. I am not sure, however, if I am deserving of this amount of benevolence. I was acting selfishly when I deserted her. I convinced myself that it did not matter to her whether I stayed or left, but clearly that was not so."

"It seems that she did not hold it against you," Kíli reminded her. After a split second of hesitation, he placed his hand on her shoulder once more. "She writes that her life was full. You have nothing to feel guilty for."

Tauriel sighed, and Kíli's silly heart skipped a beat when she turned her head to press her face against his arm for a moment. "I wish she was still here," she said, her breath tickling the skin just above his wrist. "It is only now that I realize how much I have missed her in the many years since we parted."

Her warmth against his flesh made it difficult for Kíli to focus on their conversation. He cleared his throat, fighting the urge to run his fingers through her long, silken tresses. "At least you have something of hers," he said.

Tauriel straightened up at that and half turned in her seat in order to look at him. His hand slipped from her shoulder. "Oh Kíli," she said, her eyes wide. "Forgive me. I should not burden you with my grief when your own loss is so much worse than mine."

Kíli blinked, and it took him a moment to understand what she was speaking of. Once again, he had become so caught up in the moment they had shared that he had forgotten all about where he was and why he was there. "That is not at all what I meant," he hurried to assure her. "I merely meant to say that it is a good thing that she left you her memories and that now you know that you were in her thoughts."

Tauriel studied him for a moment and when she smiled it was merely a trace of sadness that he detected in her eyes. "You are right," she said. "I should be grateful for this unexpected gift."

Kíli returned her smile. "So what do you intend to do with it?" he asked, inclining his head towards the chest that innocently sat before them.

"I suppose I will read everything that is in there after all," she replied. "For that is what Faerveren wanted." She stared at the object in question for a few moments and then reached forward to close the lid. "But not tonight," she said. "We both need our rest."

Kíli looked at the closed lid of the chest. Truth be told, he felt not at all inclined to leave the warmth and comfort of both the room itself and the company he had found there behind and exchange it for the solitude of his cold, dark chamber. Tauriel was right, however. He could feel fatigue creeping into his limbs and he knew that even if he were to stay, he would in all likelihood fall asleep as soon as his body made contact with the currently unoccupied armchair. Also, he figured that spending night after night in each other's company would only increase the danger of him forgetting all about his promises about being nothing but Tauriel's friend.

And so he once more bid her a good night and retreated into the privacy of his own room. As expected, his bed was cold and it took him longer to go back to sleep than he had anticipated, his tired mind revisiting everything that had been said tonight between himself and Tauriel over and over again. When sleep finally claimed him, however, he was blessed with the sort of dreamless, deep slumber which his tired body had craved so much.

Had his sleep been any lighter, he might have awoken when his companion paid him a visit during her own time of restlessness, might have started at the soft caress of her fingers against his cheek. As it was, he slept right through it all and only the moon and the stars in the sky heard her sigh in longing when skin touched skin, watched her fight the urge to lie down beside the dwarf in her care.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Sorry for the wait! Here's more. A big Thank You to everyone who reviewed or hit one of those "Follow" or "Favorite" buttons._

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

With her eyes glued to the page she held between her fingers – gently, so as not to crease the ancient parchment – Tauriel sat on the edge of the old, cozy armchair in what used to be Faerveren's and Iondaer's study. From time to time she would whisper some of the words that she read, the need to try how they might feel on her tongue overwhelming her all of a sudden.

Tauriel had never been a particularly avid reader, but she, too, had found distraction in written works over the course of her long life. She enjoyed reading poetry from time to time, melancholic verses touching her heart when the world around her seemed, once again, devoid of all feeling, all romance. What she had always liked most, though, had been travel reports. Those accounts of journeys others had taken had disclosed landscapes she could only have dreamt of before. Hungrily she had devoured every word on the page, experiencing in her imagination what she might never be allowed to see with her own eyes.

The documents Faerveren had left her differed from both those matter-of-fact travel accounts and the flowery language of poetry. The words in the letters, notes, and diary entries Tauriel had found were pure, personal and immediate. And they touched her soul in a way nothing written in ink on paper had ever done before, opening up worlds not of adventure or bravery, but of feelings that ran deeper than anything she might ever have imagined.

It was not surprising, thus, that Tauriel had not heeded her own advice to Kíli the night before and had, instead of resting properly, dived into the sea of words that had been locked up in the small, misleadingly simple chest. Dawn took her by surprise, and so did Kíli when he appeared at her side as the grey light of early morning began to give way to a few hesitant rays of sunlight.

She could honestly not tell how long he had been standing there already when he suddenly cleared his throat, causing her to look up in surprise, her eyes struggling to focus after staring at Faerveren's elegant but tiny handwriting for the better part of the past hour. In each of his hands Kíli held a mug filled with steaming liquid.

"I made some tea," he said and she was slightly embarrassed by the concerned look with which he took in her appearance. She had to look like a disheveled, startled deer. "I used some of the herbs I found in the kitchen. I hope it tastes alright." He frowned at the mugs in his hands. "I also hope it is not poisonous or something, for I'm not entirely sure about the ingredients."

Tauriel smiled at that and took one of the mugs from his hands. Careful not to spill the hot contents she inhaled the vapors rising from the tea's surface. "It should be fine," she concluded, winking at Kíli while she took a sip. She noted with some surprise that his brew tasted much finer than hers, causing her to think that contrary to his own words, he had known quite well what he was doing when he had made it. "Thank you. I should be the one bringing you some tea though, and not the other way around."

"Nonsense," Kíli returned. "I am quite well, so there is absolutely no reason for you to be waiting on me."

Tauriel's immediate impulse was to disagree with him, but then she noticed that he did look much better than he had done even the night before. The dark circles below his eyes were only slight shadows now and he carried himself not like someone in a great deal of pain would. He was still quite pale and his eyes had that haunted look that Tauriel wished she could chase away, but she knew that it would take much more than a cup of tea or a decent meal to make any sort of progress in that matter.

And so, instead of arguing with the dwarf in her care, she gestured towards the armchair next to her. "Will you sit and have your tea with me?" she asked, her voice almost getting stuck in her throat when she remembered what a miracle it was that they were able to do something as blessedly simple as having their tea together.

Kíli hesitated for a brief moment and she half feared that he might reject her offer, shutting himself off from her even after they had shared those tentative moments of closeness the day and night before. When he finally made up his mind and sat down, Tauriel breathed an inward sigh of relief.

She had promised herself to respect the fact that Kíli was, for now, incapable of exploring what was between them, but that did not mean that she had to sit by and watch him withdraw from her entirely. Neither of them could deny the bond that they shared and if it was not possible for them to find solace in each other's arms, then she was at least determined to offer him the comfort of joint conversations and kind gestures.

The previous night had proven that Kíli, too, was quite willing and able to offer her the same kind of reassurance and Tauriel found that now that he had opened himself up to her and shown her how much he still cared for her, she was quite hungry for more. She wanted to hear him speak kindly of her once more, wanted to feel the reassuring touch of his hand against hers. In the harsh light of day, however, such things were always harder than they were in the quiet hours of the night and so now Kíli sat there opposite her, staring down at the mug in his hands in obvious discomfort.

Tauriel knew by now that there were no words she could offer him that would truly change the way he felt, for feelings of guilt and grief as Kíli was currently experiencing them could not simply be talked away. Yet she could not bear sitting across from him doing nothing, and so she picked up the letter she had been reading when he had come in and began to translate the words on the page for her Dwarven companion, allowing Faerveren's words to fill the silence between them. It was a letter Faerveren had written to Iondaer on an anniversary of the day they had first met.

"My love," it read, "my greatest treasure in this world. You entered my life 400 years ago this very day like a tidal wave, washing away all the things I thought I knew with such certainty, forcing me to find a new perspective on absolutely everything. I am not even sure if I should use the phrase 'life' for those early years of mine spent without you, for, knowing what I know now, I had yet to truly live until the day we met. 'Existence' might be the more proper term."

Tauriel glanced up to see if Kíli was made uncomfortable or maybe simply bored by her sharing this first-hand account of Faervern's history with her husband. He was staring at his hands with a slight frown on his face, but when she stopped, his eyes immediately flickered to hers, and she sensed him urging her to go on. And so she resumed her reading.

"When you swept into this existence of mine, I was still everything the world around me expected me to be. I was what people call accomplished, and I was surrounded by many who loved me and held me in high regard. All signs seemed to point towards a peaceful, prosperous life at our king's court. My mother and father were certainly happy with the way my life and career were evolving and I took pleasure in seeing them so satisfied with my situation.

"As for my own happiness – I would be a liar to call myself unhappy during those days and yet… And yet there was this feeling that would overcome me in the depth of night, this emptiness inside of me which yearned to be filled with purpose, with meaning.

"As you know, it was against the wishes of my father that I began to pursue the profession of a healer under the tutelage of King Thranduil's healing staff. Helping those in need and alleviating the pain of those who were hurt, eased the ache inside of me. I was doing well, even if my true potential had yet to be discovered. Still, I felt that here had to be more that I could do. Too often I found myself thinking that I had not given enough to help someone, as if there were a part of me I was yet unable to access.

"I was granted a glimpse at that secret, wonderful part of myself when you entered our infirmary on this very day, almost half a millennium ago. I say 'entered' when I should rather say 'barged into' or something more drastic of that sort. We were trying and failing to save the life of a young soldier who had been attacked by orcs. I never found out how you knew that you were needed, and you yourself claim to have forgotten the circumstances of you being in the right place at the right time. I like to think, however, that the Valar heard my plea for help and that it was not merely luck which brought us together, but fate.

"Be that as it may, the other healers and I were in dire need of assistance. If none were to be found, we would surely lose the young elf before us. I remember you taking charge of the situation with such assuredness, such grace, that not even I who had no concept of who you were, questioned your complete and utter authority in this situation.

"I had assisted skillful healers before, many of them, but none like you. Your words, your supplies, your techniques – they all were familiar to me by then, but unparalleled was the power I could sense behind your every action. I was deeply moved and I felt within myself the first stirrings of my own true potential.

"It was not until after the life of our patient had been saved that I consciously looked at you, wondering about the identity of our savior in this time of need. To say that your outward appearance did not impress me would, of course, be a straightforward lie. What struck me more than your pleasing looks, however, was the sadness in your eyes, the loneliness in your stance. I did not know you, nor did I know anything about your life, but at that moment all I wanted was to chase this sadness that you carried away, to help lift that shadow off your shoulders."

Tauriel paused here, her mind beginning to wander. This description of Iondaer was new to her. She had always thought of him as serious and gentle, but she had never noticed a shadow on his soul such as the one Faerveren described here. This made her think that her former mentor had in the end succeeded in helping her lover overcome whatever it had been that had caused him pain and that, when she had met the male healer, this shadow had been a thing of the past, no more than a distant memory.

She glanced at Kíli, wondering about this newly discovered parallel between her relationship with him and that between Faerveren and Iondaer. It was impossible that Faerveren could have somehow foreseen Tauriel's current situation – absurd as it was – but still she found herself hoping that the healer's letters might offer her some counsel as to how she and Kíli could find their way back to one another.

If Kíli, too, noticed the similarity between their situation and the one described by Faerveren, Tauriel could not say. For a few moments after she stopped reading he appeared lost in thought. He looked at her when he felt her eyes on him.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said.

"Of course you can," Tauriel replied. "Ask me anything and I will try my best to give you the answer that you seek."

Kíli scooted forward in his seat, his elbows resting on his knees. "I have been wondering about Elven healing," he said. "Can anyone become a healer?"

Tauriel put down the letter she still held in her hands. "Not everyone, no," she answered. Why exactly Kíli was asking her this, she did not know, but with all this talk about healing and his own first hand experiences with it, she assumed that it was only natural for him to be curious. "The ability to heal someone is a gift an elf is born with. Without it you can study the techniques or learn some herbal lore, but you cannot master the kind of spiritual healing which Faerveren refers to in her letter."

"The kind of healing you used to save me?" Kíli asked, his eyes locking onto hers. The memory of their time together in Bard's house was written clearly all over his face.

Tauriel felt a shiver run down her spine when she, too, relived her healing of Kíli's arrow wound in what now almost seemed another life. She nodded and her voice caught in her throat when she replied. "Yes, _that_ kind of healing."

"So you possess it, that gift of healing?"

"I do," Tauriel answered truthfully. "So does Elhadron, even if neither of us is – formally speaking – a healer. In some elves the gift runs stronger than in others. And some do not possess the ability at all. Legolas, for instance, belongs to the latter group."

Kíli appeared to process the information he had just received. "So it is not hereditary?" When Tauriel looked at him slightly puzzled, he elaborated. "Legolas cannot heal. But his father can, can't he? He healed me."

Tauriel mulled this over for a few seconds. "I am not entirely sure," she then said somewhat hesitantly, "if I would call what Thranduil did for you 'healing' in the traditional sense."

Kíli seemed taken aback by that and rightfully so. The issue had been present at the back of Tauriel's mind ever since Ravenhill, but she had not thought that they would ever come to address it.

"What would you call it then?" Kíli asked, sounding as if he did not really want to hear the answer.

Tauriel hesitated. Kíli looked at her expectantly, but she found that she could not quite meet his gaze. Looking out the window instead, her mind went back to those terrible moments when she had cradled his still form in her arms, weeping for the chance at happiness they had both lost. "When I found you," she finally said, her voice so low that Kíli leaned forward in his seat in order to hear her better, "you showed no signs of life. I was sure that you had—." She found that she could not say the word 'died'. "I was sure that you had passed on," she said instead. "There was still a spark of life left in you, but it was so tiny, so weak, that I cannot but think that you had already half crossed that threshold to the other side."

She forced herself to look at Kíli then and could tell from the look on his face that he already knew what she was going to say next. "So what I would say Thranduil did for you is that he brought you back."

Kíli said nothing for a while, but held her gaze. Tauriel did not have to hear him admit it to know that he, too, had thought about this before. After another few moments, Kíli averted his eyes and pushed himself out off his seat with a low sigh. He crossed over to one of the windows and looked outside. After those initial few rays of sun at first light, the day had grown darker once more. Tauriel thought it might snow later.

"You agree then," Kíli finally said, "that I should not still be here after all."

Tauriel gasped. "That is not at all what I meant!" she exclaimed. She, too, rose from her seat, but did not dare approach Kíli where he stood at the window with his back half turned towards her. "Who is to say," she continued, her voice deliberately calm, "what is one's fate and what is not? Maybe you were meant to die, but Thranduil intervened. Or maybe it was your fate to be saved by him all along." _Maybe it was your fate to live on, by my side,_ she wanted to add, but did not have the courage to.

Kíli turned and gave her a small smile that made her think that maybe he understood what she was trying to say anyway. "I cannot argue with that," he said softly, but then his face grew serious once more. "What I meant though, was whether what happened to me was in any way… wrong. Unnatural."

For a moment his words simply hung there between them, while Tauriel debated inwardly how to reply. "I must confess," she finally said, "that I have never witnessed anything like it before. But since all strength that my people possess is connected firmly to the world around us, I would not say that what Thranduil did for you was in any way unnatural. May I ask why you would think that?"

Kíli stared at his feet and Tauriel realized with a pang in her chest how vulnerable he seemed right then. "I do not quite know how to put it," he answered hesitantly, "but I suppose I sometimes feel a bit… different than I used to." He looked up at her. "Changed."

Tauriel held his gaze for a long moment, hoping to give him some reassurance when she spoke again. "You have been through so much," she said. "The things you have witnessed are bound to leave their mark on your soul."

Kíli nodded, his shoulders sagging. "I know. But still I feel as if I have come back – if that is what happened – not quite as the same person that I was before."

Tauriel could not help but frown at that, her mind racing. As she had stated before, she knew of no one who had been gone as far as Kíli had been when she had found him and who had lived. Was it possible, maybe, that someone who returned from that place that was neither death nor life left something of themselves there? The thought was more than a little unsettling.

"Do you feel as if a part of you is missing?" she thus asked Kíli. She did not want to cause him further distress, but if that were really the case, she needed to know.

To her relief, Kíli shook his head. "No," he said, "that is not it." Again his gaze drifted towards the window, but she could tell that he was not really seeing what lay beyond it. "It rather feels as if there is something there that wasn't before. I cannot say what it is, really, but I sometimes feel like there is something _more_."

Tauriel remained silent. Had he said that he felt as if part of him were missing she would have been seriously worried. What she should do with the kind of information she had just received, she did not know. She neither wanted to simply dismiss it and make Kíli feel as if she were not taking him seriously, nor did she want to appear too alarmed.

"Would it help you," she suggested, "if I were to speak to speak to Elhadron and see if he can find an explanation for those feelings you are experiencing? He has many contacts at the palace, more than I ever had."

Kíli turned to look at her, visibly debating over whether or not to accept her proposition. In the end, he shook his head. "No, it's… it's fine." He ran a hand across his face. "You were right. It's probably just the aftermath of everything that's happened."

Tauriel nodded slowly, but watched him carefully. She resolved to respect his wishes for the time being, but made a mental note to try to further investigate the issue when the opportunity presented itself. For now, however, her priority was to remain at his side and help him to rest and fully heal.

She reached for the letter she had put down before. "Would you like for me to go on reading?" she asked Kíli, offering him a way out of their conversation which had, once again, taken a very serious turn.

As she had anticipated, her offer was met with gratitude. "If you do not mind too much," Kíli said, almost shyly. He returned to his seat and sat down, the tension of the last few minutes still visible in his posture.

Tauriel smiled reassuringly and resumed her translation of Faerveren's words, allowing both Kíli and herself to once more escape the reality of their own lives and lose themselves in the past of those two lovers who had once, not so long ago, sat in those very same armchairs they now occupied.

The fire in the hearth burned steadily, and Tauriel continued reading for a long time, watching, out of the corner of her eye, as Kíli grew more and more relaxed the deeper they dived into the history of Iondaer and Faerveren. It was past noon when Tauriel noticed that her companion had fallen asleep. With the letter she had been reading from resting in her lap, she studied Kíli's now peaceful face for a long time, wishing that she could read his true feelings as easily as she was reading the words on the pages before her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"My dear friend, you wrote to inquire about my knowledge of the healer Iondaer. I was surprised by your request, to tell the truth, because I would have thought your world and his entirely separate. Clearly, however, I was mistaken in this assumption and who am I to question the course of fate?

"As you assumed correctly, I once knew Iondaer rather well. Although we had not much in common, we shared many friends and saw each other often. Iondaer was beloved by all for his serenity and his gentleness as well as his wisdom.

"Although he himself was quiet and always preferred to remain in the background at any gatherings, he was a cherished and often seen guest in anybody's home. There was something about him that drew others to him and even while the rest of the party would sing and drink and dance right next to them, his most loyal followers would sit huddled around him all evening long and listen to him speak.

"It was a long time ago and I cannot remember the topics on which we conversed with him so eagerly, but I remember this: everything he ever said was said with such conviction, such genuine feeling that everyone hung on his lips, always thirsty for more.

"Your letter suggests to me that you have already discovered this ability of his. You also write, however, of a shadow that surrounds my old friend, of bitterness and grief in his demeanour.

"I have not set eyes on Iondaer in many years and it pains me to hear that he is still carrying a burden that befell him a very long time ago. I wish I could tell you what it was precisely that caused this change in him, but I fear that I cannot.

"All I know is that one day Iondaer stopped coming to our gatherings, suspended his correspondence with those closest to him and removed himself from the King's halls almost entirely, only returning when his presence was irrevocably necessary. There have been rumours about a tragic accident, the death of a young apprentice of his for which he blamed himself, but I never knew any of that for certain.

"You know that our people can be very vain, and many were hurt by Iondaer's sudden refusal to partake in their enjoyments and festivities. His absence was not openly discussed and anyone who voiced their concern for our old friend did so in hushed whispers, in dark corners. And so, like a flower that is cut off from the light of the sun, Iondaer and our memory of him began to fade from our lives, his fate a mystery that no one ever endeavoured to solve.

"I can only attempt wild guesses at your motives behind asking me about Iondaer and so I will abstain from any assumptions. I know that your heart is as pure as your soul is and whatever your intentions are, I do not for a minute doubt their honourableness. As your friend, however, I feel it is my duty to protect you from heartache and disappointment.

"Iondaer has dwelt in this world much longer than you have and even though I hold both your intellect and your intuition in the highest regard that there is, there are some things that only experience can teach you and not all of those things are good. Grief can be serpent and wolf at once, poisoning your heart while devouring your life. It is not impossible to overcome, but very hard to do so. Especially if a person has allowed themselves to be consumed by it for as long as Iondaer has.

"So I advise you to proceed with caution, and to take care that instead of bringing light into Iondaer's existence he does not bring darkness into yours."

Tauriel's eyes were clouded with thought as she stared out of the window, the letter she had just been reading from limp in her hands. Kíli studied her face for a moment while his own mind processed the new knowledge that the letter had provided.

After the morning when Tauriel had read Faerveren's letter to him - more as a means to fill the heavy silence between them than anything else - they had fallen into a kind of routine. Their mornings they would spend together in the study, Tauriel reading while Kíli listened. In the afternoon they would mostly go separate ways, each of them busying themselves with some task about the house, more reading, or - in Tauriel's case - hunting.

In the evenings they would sit together, sometimes again diving into the history of Faerveren and Iondaer, sometimes talking to each other about a number of carefully selected - safe - topics. Sometimes they would sit together quietly, each of their minds wandering their own paths.

When the terrors that the nights held for him became too much to bear - and frequently that would be so - they would find each other once more in front of that cozy, reassuring fire, the words others had written momentarily silencing the dreams and memories echoing in Kíli's head.

Oftentimes, though, he would simply lie awake in his bed at night and sense Tauriel's presence in the house he was reluctantly beginning to think of as home, fighting the urge to seek out her company. Things were different at night than they were during the day, his mind weaker, his body more willing. He feared that eventually his resolution might falter and that in the darkness of night they would do things they might come to regret once daylight came. That doors might be opened that could no more be closed.

In those days that were all marked by the agony which he experienced over the loss of his brother and uncle and his guilt over being alive, and safe, and more comfortable than he probably deserved, listening to Tauriel's translations of the Elvish letters had become a sanctuary, a temporary distraction from his own fate.

He was, however, not blind to the parallels between Iondaer and Faerveren and himself and Tauriel. And neither was Tauriel. Many times during their reading sessions he could practically see the thoughts flitting over her face, her cheeks colouring with a sudden blush or her eyes darkening with her own pain. Even though those moments could sometimes be uncomfortable or even painful, neither of them ever seemed to consider abandoning their sessions.

And so they worked their way through document after document, page after page, reconstructing the lives of those who had once occupied those same seats they now sat in. There was no chronological order to the letters and diary entries they found and so Faerveren and Iondaer's story became a complex puzzle, every piece that Kíli and Tauriel managed to add a small step towards completing a much larger picture.

What they knew by now was that after the two healers' first encounter, Faerveren had set her heart and mind on becoming Iondaer's apprentice. This wish had not only been met with opposition by her father and those closest to her, but also by Iondaer himself.

For what appeared to Kíli as a very long time but was probably just a slightly extended period of time when measured by Elven standards, it had looked as if Faerveren's objective would come to nothing. But, in a manner that reminded Kíli both of himself and of what he now knew of Tauriel's character in terms of stubbornness, Faerveren had persisted. In a daring move, she had eventually succeeded in convincing Iondaer of her exceptional talent and he had grudgingly taken her under his tutelage.

Tauriel and Kíli did not need the letters, of course, to know that eventually Iondaer and Faerveren had become lovers. However, of the journey from tutor and apprentice to husband and wife there were still large chunks of the story that were missing, gaps in the narrative that their acquired knowledge could not yet fill.

Mostly, those gaps revolved around Iondaer's character and his past. Also, they had yet to learn about the life of the two healers after their paths had converged. Had they always lived together at the Swallow's Nest? And why had they been permitted to build a life for themselves away from court, when Thranduil usually liked to keep his subjects close to him?

The letter they had just read, written to Faerveren by her friend Merilineth, had shed at least some light on Iondaer's personal history. But still most of his character was shrouded in darkness.

"Is that all there is?" Kíli asked, causing Tauriel to tear her eyes away from the window.

"Yes," she confirmed. "What follows are merely the usual farewells."

Kíli leaned back in his seat, disappointed. Why he felt this way was a bit of a mystery to him, and yet he could not help it. Figuring out the puzzle behind the shared existence of those two ancient Elves he had not even known had become a matter of urgency. Maybe it was because of the distraction it provided from his own grief, maybe it was because he lived in their home, sat in their seats, leafed through their books. Or maybe there was a connection between his fate and theirs that he had yet to understand - whichever it was, he knew that he would not be able to let the matter rest before he knew it all.

And neither, he was certain, would Tauriel. Still he could see her mind working, watched while she was turning this most recent information over in her head, trying to fit the piece of the puzzle into the larger picture.

„Maybe," she mused, her voice so distant that Kíli was not entirely sure whether she was speaking to him or rather to herself, „the rumour that Merilineth mentioned was true. Maybe Iondaer blamed himself for someone's death - be that an apprentice or somebody else. Certainly that would suffice to alter a person in the way that Merilineth describes, would it not?" She looked straight at him then, her gaze piercing and fraught with meaning.

„It could be true," Kíli returned evasively, refusing, for now, to consider this potential connection between Iondaer and himself. „Or it could be just that - a rumour. I suspect that Iondaer might be the only one who knew the truth about the matter."

Tauriel pursed her lips. Her need to discuss the things that were haunting him hung heavily between them. Kíli was grateful though that for the past few days neither his personal loss nor the life he had left behind had been explicitly mentioned by either of them.

Now Tauriel averted her gaze, but not before Kíli was able to catch a hint of sadness in them. „If it is true indeed," she said, „then clearly that is what kept the two of them apart for so long."

It was obvious that she was not exclusively referring to Iondaer and Faerveren with that. Before he could stop himself he returned, „It would be likely, then, that he was merely trying to protect her."

„Or maybe he was being a stubborn fool," he thought he heard Tauriel mutter in response. Her face was turned away from him once more and so he could not be sure if that was really what she had said. Either way, they were most definitely not talking about Iondaer and Faerveren anymore.

Kíli stared at the floor, frowning. He wanted to say something in return to her remark, but what could he have said? For she was right, was she not?

Tauriel relieved him of his obligation to speak when she put one of her palms against the window pane. „It is snowing," she breathed, her tone one of surprise and amazement.

Kíli, too, directed his gaze outside and watched as tiny white snowflakes fell. He thought that they seemed in a bit of a hurry to reach the ground. It was not the first snow either of them had seen this year, but still those few little flakes had a special feeling about them, similar to that breathless excitement that the first snow of the season had held for young dwarves for as long as Kíli could remember. He did not suppose that young elflings felt differently about that.

He abandoned his seat and came to stand behind Tauriel, looking past her at the weather outside. „It appears that winter has caught up with us then."

Tauriel inclined her head to one side, her eyes still tracking the paths of the snowflakes. „Still, it is rather early for snow to arrive in the Woodland realm. In many winters we have no snow at all - or at least it does not reach the ground and merely dusts the treetops."

She seemed excited which in turn drew a small smile from Kíli. On the inside, however, he felt as cold as the ice flowers that were beginning to grow on the window's glass. For all he could see as the ground outside was slowly becoming whiter was his brother's lifeless body surrounded by ice and snow atop Ravenhill.

It was in moments like this that a pressure began to grow inside his chest, a longing to be at Fíli's side that was so intense that he found himself wishing dead as well and his body laid beside his brother in the royal tombs in the depths of the mountain.

As it was often the case in those moments it was Tauriel who brought him back to the here and now, and reminded him that there were still things to live for. He found her observing him when he managed to shake the image of his dead brother. When she was sure that she had his attention she smiled, a sudden glint in her eyes momentarily extinguishing Kíli's pain.

"I would like to show you something. Are you well enough for a short hike?" she asked, and even if he had not been, the childlike excitement that brought a slight flush to her cheeks would have made it impossible for him to reject her.

As it was, he was growing tired of being cooped up in one place for such a long time and did not hesitate to accept this opportunity to distract his mind and grant his healing body some exercise. And so, within a matter of minutes, they met outside where the snow was falling more heavily now. Kíli noticed that the Elven coat he had been given really was warmer than it looked. Neither cold nor dampness managed to penetrate its fabric and still it allowed him to move freely.

It was, however, not merely the absence of his usual, heavy Dwarven winter clothing with several layers of fur and leather that made him feel almost naked as he followed Tauriel into the forest. Only after they had walked for a few minutes did he become fully aware of the fact that he was not carrying any weapons. Even the small dagger Tauriel had given him back at Dale lay in his chamber back at the Swallow's Nest, completely neglected since the day of their arrival.

The fact that it took him so long to notice this circumstance was in itself a testimony of his questionable state of mind, but now that he had become aware of it, he could not shake the feeling of helplessness that kept creeping up the back of his neck. Even though it was different from the way he remembered it, this was still the same forest that had led Thorin's entire company astray, put Bombur into a sleep from which nothing could wake him and housed a whole army of eight-legged, giant monsters that had almost eaten them all.

Suddenly unsure what to do with hands that had no sword or bow to hold, he clenched his fists, stopping to glance at the forest around him. All seemed quiet, but he wished that there would be more light to reach the ground on which he stood and the shadows amongst which he moved not quite as black.

Turning this gaze back ahead, he noticed that Tauriel had stopped as well and was facing him. Reading his thoughts, she assured him. "There are no threats nearby. If there were, I would know and we would not be out here."

Kíli nodded, but it did not escape his notice that, unlike himself, his Elven companion was carrying several blades strapped to her back and belt. „When you say nearby, though, do you mean that there's still danger out there for us somewhere close?"

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes doing a quick sweep of the area around them. "There are many things lurking in the shadows of the forest," she mused. "Some of them more harmful than others. The threat that you speak of, however, does not appear to persist in the same way it once did."

"The spiders are gone then?"

"They have retreated as far as I can tell. Where their force was growing stronger for many years, they now seem weakened and diminished." Tauriel turned back to him and Kíli thought he caught a small frown in her face, as if she were reluctant to truly believe that the spiders were a threat no more. That frown was however quickly replaced with a reassuring smile. "Either way," she said, "the spiders rarely strayed this far north. Come, we have almost reached our destination."

They climbed uphill for a bit, Kíli struggling to keep up with Tauriel. The ground was by now covered in several inches of snow and while his Elven companion seemed entirely unimpressed by that fact, Kíli had to concentrate quite a bit in order to find secure footing. Even though his ascent was not the most graceful one, he was pleased by the fact that his body did not appear to tire too quickly, the injury on his chest only stinging very lightly whenever he moved a little carelessly. It would still be a while before he might be back to his usual form, but at least he would not need to sit around, feeling entirely useless for much longer.

When he reached the top of the slope Tauriel was grinning at him. "Wear the boots that Elhadron brought for you next time. You will find them more accommodating of the requirements of walking on forest ground."

Kíli glanced down at his own, heavy footwear. She was probably right, but that did not have to mean that he had to like running around the forest dressed like an elf. He was still trying to come up with a witty return to her teasing when his eyes fell upon the scene before him. "What is this place?" he breathed.

They were standing at the edge of a platform made of stone. Around it, derelict structures resembling pillars were still visible, overgrown with moss. The place looked ancient and, as Kíli looked on, he was struck by the thought that it had been touched by magic more than once.

"No one comes here anymore," Tauriel explained. "I do not have a name for it and I do not know what its purpose once was. What I wanted to show you is this."

And with that she briefly took him by his hand and pulled him onto the platform, crossing the few steps necessary for them to stand in its centre. "Look up," she commanded gently.

As Kíli tilted his head back a number of snowflakes landed in his eyes and he closed them by reflex. When he blinked them open once more, he was astonished to find himself surrounded by the light of a thousand stars. Reaching his hands out in utter amazement, he realised that it wasn't stars that filled the air around him, but snowflakes glistening in the most intriguing way.

"It is the light," Tauriel spoke up next to him. "The place seems to absorb it, creating this effect. It also occurs when it is raining, but it is never as beautiful as when it snows."

Kilo swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "I have never seen anything like it."

He tore his eyes away from the spectacle around them and noticed that Tauriel had sat down in the middle of the platform, her head thrown back and her eyes turned skyward. Her long hair fell onto the ground behind her and she did not seem in the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that she sat on cold, snow-covered stone.

For a moment Kíli was nearly overwhelmed by the desire to walk the few steps necessary to reach her, fall to his knees beside her and take this beautiful creature in his arms never to let her go again. He dug his fingernails into his palms to remind himself of the promise he had made. Friends. No more, and no less. Why, however, did it have to be so awfully difficult to remain true to his principles?

He closed his eyes for a moment to take a calming breath and when he opened them again, he found Tauriel looking at him. Their eyes met, and Kíli knew with certainty that she was aware of everything that was passing through his head right then, that his desire was blatantly visible in his gaze. He watched her eyes widen and for a heart-stopping moment he thought that she would be the one to move towards him, that she would transgress that boundary he was trying so hard to not cross.

But Tauriel, always the stronger out of the two of them, broke the spell they were both under by sending him a small, almost shy smile before tearing her gaze away from him and back to the sky above.

"I used to come here often," she said, "when I was still very young. Whenever those feelings of loneliness that I would experience became to much to bear, I would hike up here and sit right where I am sitting now, imagining myself to be one small light in a sky full of stars, surrounded and protected by my loved ones."

She smiled wistfully. Kíli waited for her to continue, to give him more of an idea of her own past, but she remained silent, lost in thought amongst the silvery sparks floating through the air around her. What she had said though had helped Kíli understand one thing: he was not alone in this. It had been selfish of him to assume that no one else understood his pain. Others had suffered loss as well - clearly Tauriel herself had. She did not appear to want to talk about it right then and there, but Kíli was confident that, when the time came, he would hear her story.

"Thank you," he simply said.

"What for?" Tauriel asked, but he could tell from her accompanying smile that she knew quite well what he was referring to.

A companionable silence fell between them while they continued to watch the snow fall around them. It was Tauriel who was the first of them to shake herself from her reverie.

"We should head back soon. The days are becoming shorter and shorter."

Kíli nodded even though he was reluctant to leave this place of ethereal beauty. "If the snow continues to fall, we can come back whenever you like," Tauriel said as if reading his thoughts.

He smiled at her. "I would like that." Surprising both himself and her, he held out his hand to her and pulled her to her feet. It had been somewhat of a reflex on his part, something he had done with Fíli hundreds of times.

When Tauriel came to stand before him, impossibly close, there was however nothing about the situation that might have inspired brotherly feelings. Looking up at her lovely face, framed by the falling snow, Kíli noticed that he never paid any attention anymore to their difference in height. Even now that he had to lean his head back in order to look her in the face, the only thought that her superior height sparked in him was how convenient it would be to lean his head forward only a little bit and press his lips to the side of her pale, slender neck...

He dropped her hand an stepped back. "You are right," he said, his gaze fixed on the ground in a futile attempt to hide the flush that had crept up his neck. "Daylight is fading fast. We should go."

He was too much of a coward to search her face for any signs that she was hurt or insulted by his erratic behaviour. But from the swiftness of her steps as she simply turned around and started heading back the way they had come, he concluded that he had indeed managed to upset her.

Stumbling down the slope behind her he cursed himself. Why, whenever things were finally a little less strained between them, did he always have to go and spoil it all with his impulsiveness? Because you do not want to be just her friend, the voice in his head sneered. You cannot stand the thought and so you keep reaching out to her only to push her away again.

Kíli tried to silence that voice, tried to cover its mouth with his hands hand sit on its back until it choked. But still it would not shut up - it never did.

While he was still fighting his inner demons they had reached the bottom of the slope and were now hiking along the path that had led them here through the woods. Kíli was too preoccupied with his latest display of foolishness to notice much else and so was startled when he walked straight into Tauriel's outstretched arm.

"Do not move," she whispered.

Kíli frowned up at her. Any traces of anger towards him that he might have found on her face had been swiped away by a look of intense concentration - and worry. Something was wrong.

"What did you hear?" he immediately asked, scanning the forest around them with his eyes. Now he really wished for a sword in his belt or, better, a bow and arrows on his back.

Tauriel shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Not heard - felt." Her eyes were glued to the trees to their left where Kíli could see nothing except for the usual darkness that characterised the forest even in daytime. "Stay close behind me and try to be quiet."

Kíli wanted to protest or to ask her for one of her blades at least, but she was already headed for the trees and he had no choice but to follow in her step. Together they walked deeper into the forest for a few minutes, Kíli trying his best not to make too much noise. In comparison to Tauriel though, who moved without sound, he felt like a troll tearing through the undergrowth.

They walked downhill once more for a bit and when they reached what seemed to be the bottom of a small valley, Tauriel stopped him again with her palm on his chest. This time she did not speak, but merely signalled with her finger against her lips for him to be quiet. Lowering her hand she turned around and scanned the ground around them. There was less snow down here and the forest floor was covered in dried leaves amongst which the roots of the tall trees around them protruded.

Kíli saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he, too, now felt a shiver creeping up his back and coldness envelop his heart. Something sinister had taken place here. After a few moments of looking Tauriel tensed and hurried towards one of the trees where she knelt down and touched something on one of the tree roots.

Kíli went to look over her shoulder. The light was dim down here and he could not see very well, but when Tauriel lifted her fingers and held them up for him to see there was no mistaking what they were covered in. Blood.

"Someone has been hurt," Kíli muttered, looking around for traces of a struggle, a body, anything at all to help him understanding what they were dealing with.

Tauriel remained still, rubbing the blood between her fingertips. "Not hurt," she returned, her eyes wide with sadness. "Killed."

Kíli crouched gown beside her. "Are you certain? For if whoever was attacked here still lives, we might be able to save them. The blood seems quite fresh..."

Tauriel shook her head and stood, her lips pressed together firmly. "No. It was an Elf, and he or she did not survive the attack. I am sure of it."

Kíli ran one of his hands across his face. He felt tired all of a sudden. Would there ever be such a thing as quiet peace in this world? Or was more bloodshed really what it all amounted to in the end? He scanned the ground in front of him with his eyes. There were tracks on the ground - tracks of a body being dragged across it. He reached out with his hand and traced them with his fingers.

"What could have done this?" he asked. "A bear or a wolf, maybe?"

He felt foolish for even asking because, of course, in their world what lurked in the shadows were things much more dangerous than ordinary bears or wolves.

"No, this is the work of something much darker than that," Tauriel returned and something in her voice made Kíli look at her. She was staring at something far above their heads, something that Kíli could not see from his position on the ground.

He came to stand beside her and followed her gaze. Above them what remained of the light of day was caught by silvery webs. Spiders' webs.

Kíli tensed and took up defensive stance immediately. This certainly explained the foreboding of something evil he had felt before.

Tauriel's hand clasped his upper arm. He was not sure whether the gesture was meant to reassure him or herself. "They are nowhere nearby," she said. "I would have sensed them if they were and would not have led you down here. Their nest must be somewhere else."

"I thought they stayed away from this part of the forest," Kíli said, recalling the conversation they had had earlier.

"They used to," Tauriel replied absentmindedly. She was still staring at the webs above their heads. There were not as many of them as Kíli remembered from his first encounter with the giant spiders, from which he concluded that this was a much smaller cluster than the one that had captured the company somewhere south east of here. Maybe even just a single spider.

"Should we go after them?" he asked. The prospect of coming face to face with more members of this abhorrent species was not exactly tempting, but on the other hand ridding this world of a few more of the eight-legged beasts seemed an adequate way to vent the frustrated energy that had been building inside him for days now.

Tauriel's head snapped down to look at him. "No," she said immediately, her tone leaving no room for arguments. "We are sparsely armed and we are losing the light. Also, you are still recovering. We are heading back to Tuilimbar right now."

She turned briskly and began to climb out of the valley. Stunned by her terse manner it took Kíli a couple of seconds before he fell into step behind her. "Are you simply going to let them get away then?" he called after her.

Tauriel stopped and whirled around. "I have no intention of doing so." Her jaw was firmly set. "But this matter needs to be dealt with in the appropriate manner."

"Which would be?"

"That is for the king to decide." Her eyes were turned into the direction Kíli estimated the Elvenking's palace was located at. "And since he appears to go to great lengths to avoid seeing either of us, I believe it is time that we paid him a visit."

She did not look entirely at ease with that prospect and neither was Kíli. But as she turned to head back to the Swallow's Nest, the determination in her step led him to believe that she would not be swerved from her plan. And he, of course, would follow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Thranduil forcefully pulled the large oaken doors shut behind him, not even flinching from the resonating bang. Immediately he strode over to a low table at the far end of the room and poured himself a large glass of wine from a crystal jug waiting for him there. After taking a few sips he set the glass back down and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He had a headache.

Of late his days hat been more stressful than he liked, the aftermath of the great battle making itself known wherever he turned, asking to be dealt with. The current lack of trade with the former lake-people was one of many issues to keep the Elvenking on his toes. Upholding trading relations with the people of Dale was desirable, but first it would be necessary to determine what it was that Bard could currently offer him. For Thranduil was not in the habit of giving away gifts, that much was certain. Bringing provisions to Dale had been one thing – a strategic move in the Elvenking's campaign against the Dwarves of Erebor. But if he was to continue to supply Bard and his people with food and drink, then he wanted something useful in return.

As it was, he needed to make sure that his kingdom was well-stocked with provisions for when winter fully arrived. There was no need for him to worry that they might starve, no – the caverns beneath his palace held enough edibles to last them even for the longest and harshest of winters. Still, the issue was one that he did not want to carelessly put aside, as he would have hated for his people to have to miss some of their usual comforts.

Obviously Thranduil had other elves in his employ that were tasked with accumulating and monitoring the palace's provisions, but still he felt that he owed it to his people to personally keep track of the situation. Also, he was sorry to admit that the losses they had suffered in the battle did not go unnoticed when it came to life at court. Positions needed to be filled and responsibilities redistributed and this took a lot of work and energy.

The fact that Legolas, too, had not returned with them from Erebor was particularly painful. Not merely because Thranduil missed his presence – which he did, more than he liked to admit – but also because Legolas left behind an administrative void the Elvenking saw himself forced to fill himself. For who else could possibly have taken over the responsibilities of the prince?

In the end it was not an excess of work, however, that caused a dull throbbing at the back of Thranduil's skull, no. It were his own recent impulsive actions and their consequences that continually hovered at the back of his mind. By allowing both Tauriel and that dwarf to return to Mirkwood, he had created a situation over which he had less control than he liked. He knew that he would need to confront both of them eventually, but until now he had failed to make up his mind with regard to what his plans were for either.

Since he was not at all inclined to give either his former protegé or the nephew of one of his greatest antagonists cause to think him irresolute and weak willed, he had avoided coming face to face with them altogether. The idea to send them to the abandoned home in the forest had come to him spontaneously and he had welcomed it as an ideal way of buying himself enough time to come to terms with the consequences of his decisions.

Not only did he need to reach a decision about what he was going to do with these two lost souls in the long run, but he also needed to consider how their presence would be perceived by his subjects. A traitor and the dwarf who had stolen her heart… one might come to the conclusion that the king was becoming soft.

Had it been anyone else but Tauriel, he might not have worried about this aspect of the whole matter so awfully much. With her though, he had always been bothered by how easily she was able to make him do things not because he wanted to do them, but because he thought they might please her. A smile from her lips had, for the longest time, been one of the few things to bring him genuine joy. As was the case with all things happening in his kingdom, this fact had not stayed a secret forever. The jealous glances with which certain members of the guard had always eyed Tauriel had been proof enough of that.

For years he had simply chosen to ignore that fact, for who would dare question him? Now, though, he was weakened. His people were weakened. And he simply could not afford to act in a manner that inspired distrust and or other similarly dangerous feelings in those who were ruled by him.

Back at Dale, with his blood boiling so that he was able to hear it pound in his ears, the dwarf's offer to help him retrieve the stones had seemed to suffice as a justification why he chose to take him back to his kingdom. Now, however, he was beginning to realize that entering into negotiations with the dwarves of Erebor any time soon was neither something he desired nor something that would be very wise. His people needed time to heal, and so did he. And they had always done that best on their own, with minimal interaction with the rest of this world.

Thranduil took another sip of his wine and grimaced. His headache appeared to be getting worse, which only made him more angry. He wished that the situation he had allowed to become reality would, by some miracle, resolve itself. But miracles were rarely part of a king's daily routines and so he knew that eventually he would need to make up his mind.

There was a knock on the door and Thranduil turned just in time to see a young elfling slip past the guards posted on either side of it. Cedhrion was one of the many Thranduil kept in his service as informants. Posted throughout his entire kingdom, they were his eyes in places he could not see and his ears in conversations he could not hear. The smaller they were, he found, the better.

Cedhrion darted across the room and stood on the tips of his toes to whisper something in his king's ear. The young elf was rarely heard speaking above a whisper, which was one of the things that made him so successful in his occupation. What he had to tell the Elvenking today caused Thranduil's eyes to widen.

Maybe there were such things as miracles after all. It seemed that the situation which had cost him so much energy lately was gaining in momentum. If he was lucky, it really would resolve itself. Either that or things were about to become much, much worse.

* * *

The ornamented doors to Thranduil's ancient kingdom opened, sending a flutter through Tauriel's chest. That flutter was quickly followed by a twisting in her gut as she stepped through and was assaulted by a flood of memories, both good and bad. This had been her home, her sanctuary, her prison for so many years. What it was now, she could not quite say.

Her last memory of stepping through those same doors that were now welcoming her, embracing her as a mother might a child that had been thought long lost, was to leave without her king's knowledge in pursuit of a hoard of orcs and a company of dwarves. One of whom was, miraculously, now walking into the Elvenking's palace at her side.

As she glanced at Kíli, whose reluctance to be there was written all over his face, a gentle smile touched her lips. She remembered that after all, even though her actions had resulted in many conflicting feelings and her now rather debatable status at the king's court, it had been worth it. A thousand times over.

Kíli's eyes met hers and she tried to reassure him with her smile. _I know what I am doing_. She had said the same thing to him back at Tuilimbar when they had discussed their findings in the forest. Unsurprisingly Kíli had been less than eager to cross paths again with Thranduil so soon after the Elvenking had, in effect, broken their deal and had placed them both out of his way, without explanation and against their will.

And yet here they were, both of them, to ask the king for an audience. Tauriel could have come alone of course, but somehow that had never been one of the options they had discussed. Either they went together or not at all. The emotions that this fact, accepted by either of them without debate, evoked in Tauriel's chest were warm and fuzzy, despite the rather gruesome circumstances of their discovery in the forest. Someone who was at her side, without question, without compromise – this was something she had never experienced before in her life. With Legolas it had been a bit like that, yes, but his presence at her side had always been tinged by his often patronising manner, as if she could not be trusted on her own.

As she took in the interior of the palace, she pushed those thoughts of her oldest friend away. They were painful and she needed a clear head for what she was about to do.

She could feel the eyes of other elves linger on both her and Kíli and picked up their whispers with her sensitive ears. Most of those whispers were harmless and merely curious. For those that weren't, Tauriel shot a threatening glare into the general direction they had come from.

They had yet to cross most of the entrance hall when out of the small crowd that had gathered at its edges Elhadron appeared, walking briskly towards the new arrivals.

He nodded curtly at Kíli before stepping close to Tauriel. "I was going to ride out to Tuilimbar tomorrow, as promised," he said, his voice hushed. "Why did you come here today?"

Tauriel looked up at him. Unexpected visitors were not among the king's most favourite things, and so she was not surprised that Elhadron did not greet them with open arms. "We need to speak with the King," she replied, her voice clear. She had nothing to hide.

Elhadron looked around, frowning at the amount of onlookers that they had drawn. "Come," he said, placing his hand on Tauriel's upper arm. The gesture looked friendly to an outsider, but it did not escape Tauriel's notice that Elhadron was exerting a little more pressure than he might have done under other circumstances. He wanted to move them away from where they were causing a bit of a spectacle and he wanted to do it quickly.

Tauriel obliged, even though she wondered if Elhadron was not being excessively careful. She was not some stranger in the halls of Thranduil after all, and, despite being a dwarf, neither was Kíli.

Once they had crossed one of the footbridges leading away from the entrance hall and had reached the relative privacy of a less-frequented passageway, Elhadron appeared to relax. His hand slipped from Tauriel's shoulder.

"I apologise for greeting you so coldly," he explained, addressing both herself and Kíli. "I am not currently on duty, but thought that it might not be very helpful if the guards that are were to receive you. The King has established a bit of a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to visitors from outside the palace."

That she would be regarded as nothing more than your everyday visitor stung, but Tauriel swallowed her pain and her wounded pride. "Why? Did something else happen recently?" Other than the battle that cost so many their lives, she added in her thoughts, knowing that Elhadron understood her meaning.

Her mind was already conjuring up images of new threats and she was relieved when Elhadron negated her question. "That is not it. The King has not quite been himself since our return from Erebor."

"By not quite himself you mean even more of an ignorant, selfish ass than usual?" Kíli interjected and Tauriel briefly closed her eyes at his choice of words.

Elhadron regarded the dwarf with raised eyebrows, but then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips which he struggled to fight in vain. "Something of that sort, yes." Clearly his heart had warmed to the dwarf considerably since they had met. Well, Tauriel could not hold it against him. Turning to Tauriel once more the dark-haired elf asked, "What is it that you came to see him about? If it is something that can wait I would advise you to do just that. Wait."

Tauriel shook her head. "I am afraid it cannot." She stepped closer to him. "We found traces of blood up North. Elven blood. It might have been an attack by the spiders. Do you know of anyone who went missing?"

Elhadron frowned. "There are always parties out securing the perimeter. The spiders numbers ceased growing weeks ago and I have not heard of any problems with them since. But then again, this is not my area of responsibility and the guard is still in a slightly disordered state since the battle."

It was phrased neutrally, but Tauriel knew what Elhadron spoke of. With her and Legolas gone and many lives lost in the battle, the strength of the guard was diminished, its established routines shaken up. The thought saddened her, since not too long ago the excellence of the guard had been something that she had taken personal pride in. She also felt guilty, like a mother who had abandoned her child.

Once again, she locked those sentimental thoughts up in a remote corner inside her soul. She had not come here to feel guilty and nostalgic for the past – if anything, she had come because of all their future.

"There is no room for doubt that something sinister is at work out there. And it has killed at least one of ours and it will kill more," she said. "The king needs to know about this."

Elhadron held her gaze for a long moment. Then, seeing that she would not desist, he sighed. "Come then. I shall take you to see the king. Then I will go and see if I can find out whose blood you might have found in the forest."

As he led them through the maze of bridges, tunnels and footpaths which connected the different parts of the Elvenking's Halls, Tauriel heard Elhadron mumble to himself about how he was going to be the one who would have to pay for bringing the King not merely two unexpected visitors, but also bad news. Smiling inwardly Tauriel felt a surge of affection for her friend. Some things in the palace would never change. Oftentimes she and other members of the guard had used to gamble about who would be the one to deliver unwanted news to Thranduil. When it had been her to pull the shortest straw once again, she would draw out the moment when she would have to confront her king for as long as possible, lingering in the shadows with sweaty palms and her heart beating loudly in her chest.

Now she was nervous as well, but it was not predominantly for her own sake that she felt this way. She realised with some surprise that she was not afraid of Thranduil anymore. Cautious of his temper and his callousness, yes, but not afraid in the way that she had been for as long as she could remember. Somewhere between here and Ravenhill, a line had been crossed between them that had eradicated her fear of her ruler. Whether it had been his fury at her betrayal or his sympathy for her suffering that had done what hundreds of years of loyal obedience on her side had not achieved, she could not say. It did not matter, however, as long as this circumstance was what enabled her to do what she was about to do.

Still, she swallowed against a lump that had begun to form in her throat as they neared the King's royal chambers. She was glad that they were not being led to the throne room. At least there would not be many witnesses to whatever might transpire between Thranduil, Kili, and herself. She just hoped that she was not making a mistake, and that appearing here with Kili at her side would not result in the exact opposite of what she was really trying to accomplish.

Kíli remained closely at her side while they navigated the maze that was the palace. It warmed her heart to think that all he appeared to care about was protecting her when they were in a place that was so much more dangerous for him than it was for her. Tauriel caught herself thinking that had things been less strained between them, he might even have taken her hand in his. Immediately she regretted that thought, for it left her with an almost irrepressible impulse to reach out and brush her fingers against those of the dwarf walking beside her. Her throat went dry and her heartbeat quickened – surely this was not the right time to...?

She balled her hand into a fist and pressed her lips together, willing those feelings, those hungry thoughts, to ebb away. Once she was alone again she would let them out to torment her, but not now. She needed to remain focused.

Once she felt more in control of herself, she glanced to her side to find Kíli looking at her with concern in his eyes. He had probably read her body's language as a sign that she was fearful of what was to come. She tried to give him another reassuring smile, but it felt rather shaky on her lips. Well, it would not hurt for him to think that there was reason to be anxious about their audience with the Elvenking. Being cautious around Thranduil was always wise.

A few more turns and then they had reached their destination. The King's quarters. There was no turning back now. Tauriel glanced at Elhadron to see whether he might show any inclination to take the lead and announce them to the king. He did not and Tauriel almost grinned when she saw him remain in the background, leaving her and Kíli to enter Thranduil's chambers alone. Coward.

Reaching out, she knocked on the large oaken doors behind which Thranduil usually received both his subjects and outside visitors whenever he was not in the mood to sit on his throne in the center if the caverns. The wood felt cool beneath her knuckles and she tensed when the doors opened with an ominous creaking sound immediately after her knocking.

The king was not alone, of course. He had two servants with him who had also been the ones to open the door for them. Whether they were also who had informed Thranduil of Kíli's and her arrival, she did not know. It was obvious, however, that someone had told him of their impending visit – he was not surprised to see them.

The Elvenking fixed them both with an unreadable stare while the two personal guards who had let them in disappeared through the doors, pulling them shut behind themselves. Elhadron, too, remained outside at a nod from his king. Kíli cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder, but Tauriel did not succumb to the prickling at the back of her skull which resulted from being locked in alone with the Elvenking and held Thranduil's gaze.

"Considering how much of a hurry you were in when you left here some weeks hence," he finally addressed her, "it surprised me how quickly you come running back."

His words were meant to sting. Tauriel held her head high. He was trying to provoke her and for once she was determined not to play into his hands. "We bring news from the north perimeter," she said, her tone detached, professional. "We have made some unsettling discoveries which demand your immediate attention."

Thranduil's upper lip curled into a cold smile. "Did you, now?" Tauriel knew he was angered that she had not taken his bait and made a fool of herself. Now he turned to Kíli instead, even though Tauriel noticed that he did not quite look at the dwarf whose life he had saved. "Tell me, dwarf, how do you enjoy your new home in the woods? Certainly the air is much better than it is below that mountain your kin is so obsessed with."

Tauriel briefly closed her eyes. Elhadron had not exaggerated – the king was in a foul mood indeed. All she could do was hope that Kíli would be able to reign in his own temper. Something akin to pride filled her heart when the younf dwarf merely shrugged. "I cannot complain." He threw a sideways smile at Tauriel. "The company is quite pleasant."

Even though she knew it was mostly an act on his part, designed to confuse the king, she could not stop a smile from stealing across her lips. Returning her attention to Thranduil, she found him more angered than he might have been at any more aggressive response that Kíli could have given him.

"Clearly not pleasant enough to keep you where you ought to be and out of my way," the Elvenking spat.

Not for the first time in her life, Tauriel desperately wanted to hate him then, but found that she could not. For she could see beyond his mask, now more clearly than ever. His son had abandoned him, leaving him to rule a people that had recently suffered great losses. He was hurting and of course he took it out on anyone as unlucky as to cross his path. What better target for his frustration than a dwarf and a rebellious subject such as herself?

Kíli seemed about to retort, his patience with the ill-tempered ruler dwindling, but Tauriel managed to silence him with a sharp look. Yes, it was the king who was in the wrong here, but they needed to stay calm and focused.

"My lord," she spoke up, managing not to flinch when Thranduil pinned her with his icy glare. "The matter we came here to discuss is one related to your realm's security." Thranduil remained silent, but Tauriel could see some of his misplaced fury evaporate. The safety of his people always took precedence over anything else for the ruler of Mirkwood, even his personal vendettas. Now that she was confident that she had his undivided attention she continued. "We found evidence that one of our own has met a gruesome death out in the woods. We also saw traces of what I believe are more spiders."

Thranduil's eyes were serious and there was neither hostility nor provocation in his voice when he spoke. "Where was that, precisely?"

Tauriel hesitated. "North East of Tuilimbar," she then answered truthfully. "Close to the ruins." He would know the place – it was him who had brought her there in the first place, so many years ago.

If the memory of the ruins and the young Tauriel stirred any feelings in the king's heart, he hid them well. With his arms crossed in front of his chest, he turned his back. "You know very well that the area you speak of lies just beyond our borders. What happens there does not concern me."

This Tauriel had expected. That did however not mean that she was going to accept it. "What if the spiders are gaining strength again? It would be easier to destroy them before they begin swarming our lands once more."

"Their time has passed," Thranduil returned, but his tone was not quite as confident as his words. "Whatever you saw were merely the remnants of a dying population."

Tauriel remained insistent. "What if not? Clearly their strength is not entirely diminished. And they are still hungry for our blood. The blood of your people."

She could practically see the images passing through her king's head. Uniforms of Mirkwood soldiers, soaked with Elven blood. She, too, had seen them, lying in the streets of Dale and on the battlefield at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Too many had lost their lives already in the most recent past and she knew Thranduil was not prepared to lose any more.

"What would you have me do?" he asked her, his tone as close to admitting defeat as the Elvenking ever got. "The Guard is as weakened in numbers as it is in spirit. I cannot afford to send them out there on such uncertain terms."

Tauriel averted her eyes in what she hoped was a display of meekness. "Since I am no longer employed as a Captain of the Guard it is not my place to advise you on such strategical matters... I merely though it my duty to report back to you what we've seen with our own eyes."

She felt Thranduil's eyes on her and kept her gaze lowered, counting the seconds of silence stretching between them. "I know what you are doing," he finally said. His voice was not angry though, but something akin to indulgent instead. "You already have a plan, do you not? Tell me, then."

So he had not bought into her act. He was, however, prepared to listen to her and that was all that mattered. She had counted on him asking her, formerly one of his best, for her advice. Now was the time to put her cards on the table.

"If you won't send out the guard, at least send us." She gestured towards Kíli and herself. "Permit us to scout the northern border and beyond. We will handle what we can ourselves and will report back to you about anything that we find."

Kíli's head had snapped into her direction when she voiced her proposal. He was surprised, of course, for they had not discussed this. Tauriel tried her best to ignore the stare with which he fixed her and calmly held the gaze of the king instead.

Thranduil wore a frown on his noble features. "You and the dwarf..." he muttered, and Tauriel could see the cogwheels beginning to turn in his head. A minute passed in silence. "Has he recovered sufficiently to take on this task?"

Tauriel let out a breath she had not known she was holding. She'd known it. Known that Thranduil himself would not insist on holding Kíli to his promise of helping him retrieve the gems of Lasgalen. The king might covet the stones more than most things, yes, but he valued his peace just as much. And with a dwarf present at his court who continually reminded him of the disastrous events of the past weeks, that peace would be at constant risk. So she had guessed correctly – if she offered him a way out of the deal the king and the dwarf had made back at Dale and suggested an alternative employment for Kíli, Thranduil would take the bait.

"He will be ready soon," she said in answer to the king's question. Out of the corner of her eye, she risked a glance at Kíli. He was staring at her with an unfathomable expression, his jaw firmly set, but remained completely silent, indicating in no way that her proposition came as a surprise to him. Tauriel had thought it unlikely but not altogether impossible that he would insist on upholding his side of the deal he had made with Thranduil, out of fear that not doing so might have negative consequences for her. She was glad that he did no such thing, for there was no outcome of this meeting that she would have preferred over being granted the wish she had just voiced. Not even returning to her old position as if nothing had ever happened. Freedom from the constraints of the palace and the memories that they held, a purpose to fulfill, and Kíli alive and at her side – she could think of nothing better. Even if it involved hunting down monstrous spiders.

And Kíli, too, could only profit from her plan. Their days had been quiet and rather peaceful of late with both of them settling into their situation and accepting, for the time being, that each of them had their own grievances, their own troubles. Sometimes, though, Tauriel saw a restlessness creep into Kíli's eyes and rather than waiting until he went off on his own and did something reckless she would provide him with another way to vent the need for adventure that was in his blood. Also, she hoped that a purpose and a mission might remind him of his own value, for she knew that he was still plagued with self-doubt and guilt over failing to save his brother and uncle.

She looked at Thranduil once more. He seemed lost in thought and, for a moment at least, Tauriel could see how tired he was. She was not sure that she had it in her to pity him – too much of the bad things that had happened recently had been his doing. Or rather, his outright refusal to do something. Still, seeing her king so obviously unhappy left a bitter taste in her mouth and an uncomfortable weight upon her soul.

The moment passed and Thranduil's face became impassive once more. "Fine," he said, not quite looking at either of them. "You have my permission to track the spiders for as long as you deem necessary. You will report back to Elhadron every fortnight."

Tauriel's heart gave a jolt. He was in fact agreeing to her plan. Not even the fact that he clearly wanted to avoid both her and Kíli so badly that he did not want them reporting back to her directly but to one of his officers instead could dim the excitement that coursed through her.

She looked at Kíli who stared at the king in such disbelief that she had to suppress a smile. Keeping a straight face instead, she bowed her head. "Thank you my lord," she said humbly. "We will take care of the situation as swiftly and efficiently as possible."

Thranduil inclined his head, but Tauriel could see that he was not really listening, his thoughts flitting to some other issue already.

With a small bow she bid him farewell and turned to leave, knowing when she was being dismissed. Her movement caused Kíli to shake off his stupor and, with a final confused glance at Thranduil, follow her to the large wooden doors they had entered through.

The look in his eyes when they found hers told her that she would have some explains to do once they were on their own again. Before she could open the door that would deliver them from the terse atmosphere in the room, they were however stopped by the king speaking up once more.

"I would ask you to treat this matter with the utmost discretion. It might, after all, still turn out to be nothing."

Tauriel paused with her hand already against the door. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Thranduil. His back was turned once more, but there was something to his stance that gave away the worry he experienced on behalf of his people. The lives of all of them had been thoroughly shaken by the most recent events and he was afraid of what fear of a new threat might do to them. Think of him what you will, but in the end he would always be a good king. In his own way.

"We will," she answered his request, hoping that the sincerity in her voice conveyed to him that she, too, looked out for all of them still.

Since there was nothing else left to say, she and Kíli quietly slipped through the door. The guards posted outside remained utterly still as they passed them by and made no move to follow them as Tauriel led Kíli back to the upper levels of the palace.

There was no sign of Elhadron. Tauriel assumed that he would come to them once he had found out anything about the traces of blood they had discovered. For what she and Kíli needed to do next, it did not make much of a difference whose blood it was. In the long term, however, it might be very useful to know.

Neither of them spoke while they retraced their steps that had taken them to the king. With every step that passed in silence, however, tension began to rise in Tauriel. Had she made a mistake in not telling Kíli about her plans? She could bear his anger if that was what was keeping him silent, but she could not stand the thought that she might have hurt him. What if he took her actions as evidence that she did not trust him?

Again they were greeted by curious whispers once they reached the more frequented, public areas of the Elvenking's Halls. This time, however, they walked too swiftly for Tauriel to listen to them – not that what they said would have mattered much.

Only once they were finally outside and had crossed the bridge which connected the palace to the forest did they both slow down as if by some unspoken agreement.

Tauriel would never have thought that even as little time as she had been gone from the palace would suffice to so completely change her perception of her former home. The still air inside the enormous caverns now seemed suffocating, the lack of sunlight dimming her sight. Now, outside once more, her senses seemed to come back to life and she found herself eager to return to Tuilimbar.

She took a deep breath that filled her lungs with the clear, cold air of the forest and turned to face Kíli, anxious of what she might find on his face. Of all the emotions she had been prepared to be met with, however, mirth had not been among them. Thus, she was caught off guard by the smile on his lips and the glint in his eyes.

"I had been warned that Wood Elves were cunning creatures not averse to a bit of mischief now and then," he said in response to her nonplussed stare, "but still, watching you play your own king like a pawn in a game of chess was truly a spectacle to behold."

Tauriel felt her face flush fiercely. "You are not angry then? For not letting you in on my plan beforehand?"

Kíli seemed to consider this for a moment and Tauriel could tell that there was a part of him that did not like being left out of the loop. Not at all. She wondered if maybe that went back to some of his experiences as a younger brother and nephew to one of the most legendary dwarf of their time. Surely he would often have struggled to not simply be regarded as the young one, the immature one, who could not be expected to handle difficult information. If that was truly the case, another, more understanding part of him appeared to be victorious in his internal struggle. He shook his head. "I'm not angry. And I am sure you had your reasons."

"I did," Tauriel quickly assured him. "I thought—" She broke off, searching for the right words. Even though Kíli had said he was not mad, it mattered greatly to her that he understood why she had not told him of her plan. "I knew you would want to keep your word to Thranduil even though he already broke his to you. And I did not want you to have to step before him, feeling like you are about to betray your own sense of honour. I thought that if you saw how readily he would grant his permission to my request you would realize that there is no need to feel guilty about forestalling your promise to him."

Kíli mulled this over for a moment. "You knew that he would agree to your plan?"

"I sincerely hoped he would." With a small sigh, Tauriel turned around to look at the palace once more. "Do not forget for how long I have served him already – I know the way he thinks. And as I told you before, he took a great risk in bringing us here. So I put all my hope in him not being able to resist an offer that would keep us away from the palace and out of his way."

Kíli grinned. "Well played." His expression turned a bit more serious. "I cannot say that I regret not having to advise your king on the matter of retrieving the gems. I am no good at politics and to be quite honest I would rather not have to think about gold and treasure at all for a good long while."

Tauriel nodded. "I assumed as much." Of her desire to provide him with an occupation that might return some of his self-confidence and zest for life she mentioned nothing.

In what was probably an unconscious movement, Kíli traced the edge of the bandage that was hidden underneath his clothing. "Do you really believe I am ready to fight if need be?"

"Only yesterday you wanted to go after an unknown threat without weapons," Tauriel teased him in reply, but she could tell from the worried frown on Kíli's face that it was not merely his physical condition that he was worried about. She reached out and gently wrapped her fingers around his and pulled them away from his bandage, lowering their joined hands. "When we go, you will be ready," she said, holding his gaze that had flickered to hers at the unexpected touch of her hand against his.

After another moment, he nodded and swallowed nervously. Was it their mission that was making him nervous or their joined hands? Tauriel could not tell and before she had a chance to search his face for evidence of either, he masked his uneasiness with a smile.

She squeezed his hand lightly before letting it slide from her grasp, sparing herself the pain of him being the first to let go. "Are you ready to head back home?"

She realised her little slip only after she had spoken. _Home_. Was that really what the Swallow's Nest had become for her? So quickly? If Kíli noticed what she had just called the place, he did not show it. Which gave her hope, beyond anything.

"Ready when you are," he said, his smile more confident and carefree than it had been in a long time.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry that there is so little romance in this chapter - the upcoming chapters will be very different in this respect. That's a promise._


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: I promised more interaction between Kíli and Tauriel, so here we go. Sorry about the awkwardness in the first part of the chapter, I just couldn't resist ;-) Hope you enjoy._

 **Chapter 16**

The floorboards were cold beneath the soles of his bare feet when Kíli swung his legs out of his narrow bed the next morning. He stretched. Glancing out the window, he estimated it to be sometime around eight o'clock in the morning - quite late by his usual standard.

This past night he had slept as deeply as he hadn't in a long time. Not since before the battle or even, now that he thought about it, since he and Fíli had left their home in the Blue Mountains.

He vaguely recalled some of his dreams and not all of them had been pleasant, the events of the past months and the people he had lost still haunting him during those hours of unconsciousness. And yet they had not terrified him like they used to, had not caused him to wake up bathed in sweat and gasping for air or - worse - screaming Fíli's and Thorin's names into the blackness of the night.

Something had shifted the day before when he and Tauriel had gone to see her king, like a weight inside of him that had not been simply removed but readjusted in a manner that allowed him to breathe more easily. To live. He could not quite put his finger on what exactly it was and maybe it wasn't even just one thing, but a combination of many. A new purpose, a mission that would allow him to pay his debt. Him and Tauriel acting as one, fighting side by side without either of them constantly questioning what they were to each other. And then, of course, some of the things that Tauriel had said on their way back.

 _Home_. Only afterwards had he remembered that that was what she had called the Swallow's Nest. The fact that he had not even noticed it was proof enough that he felt the same way. He was not sure if it was a good thing that he did, for becoming attached to a place so quickly, so easily, might also end in more heartache than he was prepared to face. Rationally he knew that neither he nor Tauriel could afford to be lulled into a false sense of safety, but for now he did not have the strength to fight it. He had fought enough already, hadn't he?

Getting out of bed, Kíli quickly put on some clothes to ward off the cold that was seeping into his bones. Silently he set out to search for Tauriel. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, every morning that was one of the first impulses he had. As if the night spent on his own demanded for an immediate compensation by seeking out her company. And that despite the fact that he knew her to sometimes come to him while he slept, tiptoeing into his room to silently watch over him.

Of course he never told her that he knew of her nightly visits. This might have made her stop, and he did not want that. Not even in the least bit.

Now, as he left his small room behind in search of his Elven companion, he was a little disappointed to find each room which he peered into empty. Where could she have gone this early in the morning?

Wherever Tauriel was, she had taken care to light the fires throughout the house so that it was warm. Seeing that there was nothing else to do for now, Kíli returned to the study which had been the first place he had looked for Tauriel.

It was not the first time that he was alone in the house, and yet today it felt strange to be there without her, and he had to admit to feeling a little lost as he sat in his usual chair with nobody occupying the seat opposite. To keep himself from worrying about Tauriel's whereabouts - which would have been more than a little silly, seeing that she of all people knew how to take care of herself - Kíli reached for the chest containing Faerveren's memories and pulled it towards him.

With his hand on the lid he hesitated. While Tauriel had liberally shared the things she had found in there with him, it had been her that the chest had been given to, and not him. Going through its contents felt a bit like prying into someone else's life without permission to do so. On the other hand, he supposed that there was not much harm to be done, seeing that Faerveren's letters were usually written in Elvish script - which he couldn't read.

And so he made up his mind and flipped back the lid, peering into the chest. Whenever they were finished with a letter, Tauriel would put it aside, so that read and unread documents would not become mixed up. Despite the fact that they had already sat together many hours, there still remained a thick stack of parchment inside the wooden container. Not exactly surprising, considering the lifespan of Elves.

As expected, the majority of the documents were letters or diary entries written in Elvish and thus of no use to Kíli. There were, however, also sketches and drawings amongst the written pages, depictions of plants, sceneries, or, and those interested Kíli the most, maps of what had to be certain parts of the forest.

What those maps had been used for, he could only guess. The markings found in several places made him think that maybe the healers had indicated places where certain plants or herbs could be found. But since he was unable to read the inscriptions, his guess might have been utterly wrong.

He collected the maps in a separate pile. They would probably not reveal anything about the history of Iondaer and Faerveren, which he and Tauriel were still trying to piece together. They might, however, become useful in some other way. He would show them to Tauriel later, maybe she would be able to satisfy his curiosity with regard to their purpose.

Reaching into the chest once more, Kíli pulled out a larger piece of parchment which had been folded in half twice in order to fit in with the other documents. Carefully he unfolded it, trying his best not to damage the parchment which felt ancient beneath his fingers.

His face became quite hot. In his hands he held another drawing, but this one depicted neither a plant nor a pretty scenery. It was a full body sketch of an elf woman against a backdrop of a meadow full of flowers. On her body she wore not even a scrap of clothing, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders to cover some - but not nearly - all of her nakedness.

It had to be Faerveren. He had never seen a picture of the female healer, but for some reason he knew it to be her. It would not have made a difference though if it hadn't been, for as he gazed at the drawing, he did not really see the woman it portrayed anyway. Instead, his mind - treacherous thing that it was - immediately flashed to Tauriel, imagining her like this, her beauty rivalling against the beauty of nature, with no physical barriers between them, all of her, for him to admire.

With his heart pounding so loudly that he heard it resonate in his ears, Kíli felt a hunger stir inside of him, a hunger that might be fierce enough to devour all of his good sense, all of the resolutions he had made. He closed his eyes, but that did nothing to eradicate the images of perfect, creamy white skin that his mind had conjured, long limbs and gentle curves that begged to be stroked and caressed by his hands.

Pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyelids, Kíli let out an agonised groan. Who was he fooling - his feelings towards Tauriel would never be merely those of a friend. His quickened breath and the stirring he felt in his loins at the mere thought of her in a situation such as that in the drawing were proof enough of that.

The question was, what was he to do about that? While his resolution to not give into his feelings had wavered more than once during their time at the Swallow's Nest, he still believed that he did not deserve her, that putting her heart on the line was a risk he should not take. What would happen to him - to them - if he continued to suppress his innermost desires? Would they begin to poison his heart and their tentative friendship along with it?

As always when he asked himself those questions, he could not answer them on that morning. Maybe, a voice inside his mind insisted, you will never find an answer if you keep searching for it on your own. Does Tauriel herself not get a say in this matter?

She did, obviously, but Kíli thought he already knew what it would be that she would have to say to him. And he was not sure that he was ready to listen. Not yet. Exhaling in defeat, he dropped his hands into his lap and opened his eyes.

He blinked as the room swam into focus - and had to fight the impulse to simply close his eyes again when he found Tauriel standing opposite him, staring at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

It would have been useless to try and hide the drawing, for of course she had already seen it. Who knew for how long she had been standing there while he had been fighting his internal battle. And so he just sat there, staring back at her with a reddened face and a drumming sound in his ears.

"Are you quite alright?" Tauriel finally asked.

Kíli was stunned. He would have expected anger or, at least, a fair bit of embarrassed awkwardness in her manner, but what he found instead when he searched her face was genuine concern. "Well, no, I..." he stammered, "I mean, yes, I'm alright, but..." He looked up at her, feeling helplessly embarrassed by the whole situation. "It is not what it might look like," he finally said with as much composure as he could muster.

Frowning, Tauriel took another step closer and glanced at the sheet of paper lying quite innocently in Kíli's lap. "I'm not sure I understand. It is a drawing of Faerveren. What else would it look like?"

Kíli's cheeks burned with shame as he glanced at the picture once more. "I meant that I didn't-" Again, he stumbled. "I wasn't looking at it in that way."

For another couple of seconds, Tauriel continued to stare at him with confusion written all over her face. Then realisation appeared to hit her. "Oh." She blushed and took half a step back. Still, however, she did not seem angered or hurt in any way. "Is nudity a very private thing amongst your people?"

Again, Kíli did not quite know what to say to this. "Well, yes, I suppose it is. Isn't it amongst Elves?"

Tauriel chuckled at that, even while her cheeks retained their reddish hue. "I cannot speak for all Elves, but as far as Woodelves are concerned I would say no. Not it the same way as it is for dwarves, it seems. Faerveren would not have minded for you or anyone else to see this drawing. And neither would Iondaer, who, as far as I can tell, made it."

Kíli swallowed. "And do you mind?"

Tauriel studied him, her face blank. "Do I mind that you saw the drawing, you mean, or do I mind that you felt something when you did?" Her question, of course, went straight to the heart of the matter. Despite her apparent indifference, Kíli thought he detected a slight tremor in her voice when she asked it.

"I didn't," he hurried to assure her. "I didn't feel anything, I meant." He found that he could not hold her gaze for what he was going to say next and stared at his hands that still held the drawing which he had refolded by now. "Not for her, at least."

He did not even know why felt the need to tell her this, for while he had admitted to himself that it was useless to deny the desires she stirred in him, he had no intention of acting on them. Not here, not now at the very least. And yet some part of him needed her to understand, needed her to know.

Tauriel was silent for a long time. When Kíli finally dared raise his eyes to her face, he found her cheeks slightly pink. But she smiled - a shy smile it was - and held his gaze just long enough for him to ascertain that she had indeed grasped the meaning behind his words.

As was so often the case of late, she had mercy with him and offered a change of topic that prevented him from bringing more embarrassment upon himself - and her. "I have something to show you," she said. "Do you want to see it?"

Kíli's heart rate was still recovering after the conversation they had just had and he hoped it did not show in his face or voice when he responded with a smile. "Yes, sure. What is it?"

Tauriel seemed excited as she picked up a bundle that had been leaning against the side of the armchair she usually sat in. "I went out to get this at dawn," she explained while she unwrapped the bundle. "If we are to go out into the forest soon, we will be in dire need of it."

Kíli sat up a little straighter, peering at the objects she was unwrapping. It was wood. Different stems of varying thickness, but still - just wood. Kíli raised an eyebrow. "You want to build a fire?"

Tauriel's laughter was bright and genuine as it filled the silence between them. "No," she said, "this wood is much too precious to end up as a campfire. This," she pointed at one of the shorter, sturdier stems, "is elm wood. It is not easy to work with, but the effort is worth it, for it is strong and resilient. I brought it for you." She turned her attention another, longer stem, much lighter in color. "I will use acorn. It yields easily and is lighter, but also much more fragile."

Kíli frowned. "Use it for what, exactly?"

Tauriel's responding grin quickened his heartbeat once more. "Why, to make new bows and arrows of course. Wouldn't you want your strongest weapon to defend yourself out there?"

Of course. Kíli was rather embarrassed how long it had taken him to grasp what she intended to do. He took the piece of wood Tauriel had indicated as his and ran his palms over the stem's rough surface. He smiled. Even though it did not yet resemble a bow in any way, it already felt good in his hands. Like it belonged there. In his chest, he felt excitement starting to grow - only now did he realize how much he had missed his archery.

He looked up to find Tauriel studying him with a gentle smile upon her lips. "Thank you," he said, "it's perfect."

Her smile widened. "Not quite yet. Are you familiar with the techniques of bowmaking?"

"I am sure your standards differ greatly from mine," he returned. "But yes, I do know how to make a bow that can even shoot an arrow."

She grinned and Kíli found himself becoming addicted to the twinkle in her eyes. "That will do," she said. "We have everything else we need here. Should we begin right away?"

"Absolutely," Kíli answered, his hands suddenly impatient to do some manual work. It had been much too long. As they gathered the wood Tauriel had brought, a thought struck his mind and he paused. "It is obvious that I should need a new bow," he said, "but why are you making one? You must have plenty of weapons among your possessions. Has Elhadron not brought them for you?"

Tauriel seemed to hesitate before answering. "Weapons yes, and indeed most of them were already brought here by Elhadron. However, I only had one bow and I had it with me at Lakerown and, later, at Dale."

Kíli frowned. Clearly she was not telling him the whole story. "What happened to it?"

"It... it was destroyed beyond repair." Still, Kíli felt that she was holding something back and he waited patiently for her to continue. Finally, with a sigh, she did. "I confronted Thranduil at Dale when I learned that you and your kinsmen were headed up Ravenhill. I hoped to convince him to intervene, for Legolas and I knew it to be a trap. The king..." she averted her eyes, the memory clearly painful, "he cut my bow in half with his sword."

Kíli had to exert a tremendous amount of self-control in order to not erupt into some of the worst Khuzdul cursed that there were. As it was, though, he did not think that this would help Tauriel. "You tried to do the right thing," he said instead. "And in the light of everything that has happened since I believe that even Thranduil knows this to be true."

It felt wrong to speak of the Elvenking in such forgiving tones, but at least his words did not forfeit their intended effect, for the shadow upon Tauriel's fair face seemed to lift gradually. "Be that as it may," she said, her voice almost but not entirely free of bitterness, "I am in need of a new bow as much as you are."

With what he hoped was a comforting smile, he handed her the acorn stems she had brought for her new bow. "Let's get to it then."

xxx

* * *

The arrow cut through the air with a hissing sound. It missed its mark, but Kíli's smile could not have been more satisfied had he hit it dead center. He gave his bow string a tug. "It still lacks tension," he said.

Tauriel suppressed a silly grin. It felt good to see him so carefree, completely absorbed in something other than grief and worry. She stepped closer and ran her finger along the string. "It feels fine to me," she said. "Maybe the fault is in the arrows."

Kíli appeared to consider this for a moment. "Nah," he finally said. "I'm telling you, it's the string."

He picked up the bow again and took out another of the arrows he had made. Pulling back the string, he took aim. With a frown Tauriel noticed a tremor in his right arm. Kíli winced and lowered the bow without taking his shot.

Tauriel was at his side in an instand. "What is it?"

Kíli shook his head, but was unable to conceal the pain etched into his features. "It's nothing." His words were contradicted though by him letting the arrow he was still holding drop to the ground and clutching his chest with his now free hand.

"Clearly it is not nothing," Tauriel chastised. She took the bow from him and was worried by the lack of resistance on his side. "Let's take a break," she suggested. "Maybe we rushed things by coming out here today. Maybe it is too soon."

For days they had worked on their weapons in Iondaer's workshop. And while those had been good days, either of them had been impatient to take the products of their work outside. Now Tauriel reproached herself for her own restlessness - should she have played the part of reason and held Kíli back? It would have caused her great pain to dampen his enthusiasm, but maybe that was exactly what she ought to have done.

Kíli halted her thoughts with the touch of his hand against her lower arm. "It wasn't too soon. I was fine until just now, wasn't I?" Despite his reassuring words his smile was a little shaky, betraying how exhausted he really felt. "Some rest might do me good though."

Briefly, Tauriel covered his hand with hers before stepping away to head for the small pile of provisions they had brought with them on their little excursion. As she did so, she could feel Kíli's eyes on her back and felt a familiar heat climb up her neck, causing her cheeks to burn. Those small touches, initiated by either of them and always welcomed by the other, had become more and more frequent. What that meant, Tauriel did not dare to think about.

They had not spoken of those things between them since that first night at Tuilimbar, and while she was determined to give him as much time as he needed, she had no desire to torture herself with hopes which might not be fulfilled.

Trying to distract her mind from the path it inadvertently began to wander down, she busied herself with extracting food and drink for both Kíli and herself from their bags. They had not strayed too far from their home in the woods, but since their original plan had been to spend the whole day outside, they had put together a small lunch. Winter still held the forest in its firm, icy grasp, but the day was bright and dry and they did not want to lose more time than strictly necessary to prepare for their mission. Things had seemed quiet since their initial discovery, but who knew when that might change. When it did, they wanted to be ready.

Kíli nibbled on a piece of bread without too much appetite, but clearly knew better than to outright refuse to eat. When he caught Tauriel studying him, he flashed her a slightly exasperated, tired grin. "I am fine," he said. "Stop worrying yourself."

Tauriel blushed. "I'm sorry," she chuckled. "It has become a bit of a habit, I am afraid."

Kíli glowered at her. "Do not get too used to it. I have no intention of continuing my series of misfortunes."

Tauriel laughed, enjoying their banter. "Somehow I cannot imagine you without the occasional mishap. Or do you mean to tell me that you never needed saving before we met?"

Kíli narrowed his eyes at her, but then broke into laughter as well. "Only from time to time. Fíli could have told you a lot about that, for it was usually him to get me out of whatever mess I'd gotten myself into."

His smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes took on that same longing, wistful look they did whenever his brother was on his mind. Of late, though, Tauriel felt that he was beginning to accept the fact that Fíli was gone.

"I am sure he and I would have had a lot to talk about," she said quietly, hoping that she was not transgressing a boundary in dwelling upon the subject of Kíli's deceased brother.

Her fears were unjustified though, for Kíli met her words with a soft smile. "I'm sure you would have. Fíli loved cursing me for my recklessness."

Tauriel swallowed against a lump that had formed in her throat. "Not as much as he loved you, I believe."

Kíli stared into the distance for a long moment, his memories leaving their shadows upon his face, both happy and sad. He did not say anything, but reached out to cover her hand with his. With tears pricking her eyes, she twisted her hand in his, so that their fingers were entwined and have his hand a small squeeze. They did not dare look at each other but sat like that for a long time, each dwelling on their own thoughts.

In the aftermath of the things to come, Tauriel could not say what it was precisely that had made her look up in that moment. Had it been a sudden, icy breeze drifting towards the from out of the depths of the forest? Or had her keen eyes caught sight of a movement amongst the shadows? Or maybe it was something more subtle, a shift in the balance of all things which had caused a shiver to run up her spine. Either way, she tensed and abruptly removed her hand from Kíli's grasp.

His concerned eyes were fixed on her. "Forgive me," he began, "I shouldn't have-"

Tauriel quickly silenced him with a shake of her head and her finger against her lips. "That is not it," she whispered. She redirected her gaze to the forest, a dark sense of foreboding having taken hold of her. "There is something out there."

Kíli sat up straight and followed the line of her gaze. "Someone or _something_?"

Slowly Tauriel rose to her feet. "Something, I am afraid." She did not dare take her eyes off the deep shadows of the forest. "And it's coming for us."

 _tbc_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

It was certainly true that Kíli had not known Tauriel for a terribly long time and there were many aspects of both her character and her life which remained a mystery to him. He did know her well enough, though, to know that when she sensed danger, there was no time to lose. And so, following her warning, he was on his feet in an instant.

"How much time do we have?" he asked. Forgotten were the melancholic, tender feelings from a moment ago. His whole being was focused on the imminent threat of which Tauriel had warned.

"I cannot say," she replied, visibly straining both her ears and eyes for any indication of what they were facing.

Kíli's fists clenched of their own volition. This was happening much sooner than they had expected – too soon, maybe. "Do we run?" he asked. "Or do we stay and fight?"

Tauriel was on her feet now as well. She took a half step back, her whole body rigid with tension. "I fear that we do not get a choice in that," she said. And then, more urgently, "Take up your weapons. Quickly!"

As both fear and excitement coursed through his veins, Kíli forgot all about the sharp pain he had felt in his chest only minutes ago, any weakness in his limbs chased away by the prospect of an impending battle. When he picked up his new bow it felt right in his hands, like they had never held anything else.

With his arrows strapped to his back and the small blade Tauriel had given him back at Dale in his belt, he stepped up next to Tauriel. She glanced at him.

"I will try to fight them off. I want you to keep in the background. Do you understand?"

Others might have felt offended by her brusque tone, but Kíli actually appreciated how she was able to transform that gentle, caring being from only moments ago into a cold-blooded warrior within a heartbeat. And while that stubborn, reckless part of himself wanted to argue with her, wanted to fight on the frontlines, he knew that she was right in telling him differently. "I will watch your back," he thus agreed.

A small, grateful smile flickered across Tauriel's otherwise serious face and she nodded. "Thank you." Her gaze went back to the forest ahead. "Any moment now," she announced.

And now Kíli felt it, too, a darkness rolling towards them like a malicious, threatening wave. The forest had gone eerily quiet, all those small sounds he had become accustomed to over the past few weeks extinguished in the light of what was to come.

A rustling in the trees was the only sound to announce the eight-legged, silent predators. Kíli had only confronted them once and would gladly have left it at that. As it was, however, he now found himself faced with an approximate dozen members of that abhorrent species gathering in the trees above their heads, whispering greedily, hungrily.

Tauriel's first arrow hit one of the spiders directly between its many eyes. Kíli took an involuntary step back as it came tumbling down from where it had lurked up high in the trees, hitting the ground with a gut-twisting thud. Tauriel had not moved at all, watching stoically as the body landed right in front of her feet.

For a moment all was deadly quiet. And then the spiders descended upon them with full force, their raw fury causing the hairs at the back of Kíli neck to stand.

One, two, three more were taken out by Tauriel's arrows before she abandoned her bow and reached for her blades instead. Kíli himself managed to kill one with a well-aimed shot and another was hit in its side. It lost its footing and fell, disappearing from sight behind a number of gigantic tree roots. He doubted that he had fatally wounded it – too sloppy had been his shot. He had however no time to further investigate the fate of that one spider, for its sisters were not at all inclined to slacken the force of their attack.

While Kíli was not entirely happy about having to hold himself back in this fight, that task was at least made easier by the effortlessness with which Tauriel took out their attackers. Kíli admired her as she twirled, and leaped, and ducked, and struck, the gracefulness of her movements momentarily blinding him to the abhorrent appearance of their opponents. Her blades made quick work of two more spiders while Kíli shot another, leaving them with less than a handful to fight.

Kíli allowed himself a moment of exhilaration of the kind which only a fight you were about to win could bring. He and Tauriel worked well together, and despite the fact that she was doing most of the fighting, he was not too unhappy with his own contribution. Considering his injury and considering the somewhat provisional state of his bow. This was, of course, the moment when things began heading downhill.

With an impressive move which involved her running up a good portion of a tree and then gracefully leaping down to land on the back of one of the monstrosities, Tauriel finished off two spiders at once. If Kíli had counted correctly, that meant that there was only one left to attack them – but where was it?

He turned in a circle, scanning the trees around them, his heart beating fast in his chest. How had he lost sight of it?

"Kíli! Look up!" Tauriel's warning came just in time. As Kíli threw his head back, he was faced with the last of the spiders coming at him from above, the thread it had spun reaching way up into the treetops.

Quickly Kíli raised his bow, knowing that if he did not shoot right now, the spider would be too close to take aim. As he pulled back the string, however, the same tremor which had taken hold of his arm and shoulder before the attack coursed through him, the accompanying pain causing his eyesight to blur. He had no choice but to slacken his grip, relieving his right side of some of the strain.

There was no time to reach for his blade, and even if there had been, he doubted that it would have been of much use to him in this situation. He stood rooted to the spot, his mind not quite catching up to what was happening.

Tauriel's urgent voice tore him out of his stupor. "Jump!" she yelled, and before his head could begin to wonder where to, his body obeyed her and he threw himself sideways, his impact with the ground rather painful.

As soon as his body hit the earth, he scrambled to his feet, prepared to fight the beast that had been coming for him. He was surprised, however, to see that the spider's descend had become rather uncontrolled – it came crashing down, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. From its ugly head an arrow protruded – Tauriel had shot it, saving him, once again.

With his heart still pounding in his ears he whirled to face her. She stood exactly where she had before, next to a tree a couple of feet away, worry etched into her face. Before she could speak, he held up his hand.

"I'm fine," he panted. "I just need to catch my breath."

Tauriel nodded slowly, her brow creased in concern. Kíli straightened up and tried his best to send her a steady smile.

"We did it," he said as his heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

Tauriel's answering smile was gentle. "It appears that we did."

Their eyes locked and for an instant Kíli was overwhelmed by his memories of when they had first met, standing, just as they did now, in the middle of Mirkwood with the carcasses of giant spiders covering the ground around them. He remembered how, in this one moment when his eyes had found hers for the first time, his world had come to a complete standstill, and everything that he had thought je had known had ceased to matter. And the most marvellous thing had been to see some of those feelings reflected in the eyes of this beautiful elf-maid, to watch an understanding of the depths of his soul flutter across that perfect face.

Now, too, her eyes widened and then softened with her recognition of what was in his heart. Go to her, a voice insisted in his head, but he remained frozen to the spot he was standing in, knowing that if he did dare to move towards her there would be no stopping. Not this time.

And this moment, while Kíli still tethered on the brink of taking that leap from which there would be no coming back, was when it happened. There was no warning, no sound that might have given away that one surviving predator as it launched its attack.

Not even reflexes as sharp as those of Elves would have given Kíli enough time to shout a warning as the spider he had wounded before appeared from behind the large roots of the tree under which Tauriel was still standing. Terror gripped Kíli's heart when he watched, helplessly, as the beast threw itself at her, its long hairy legs encircling her slim firm while it sank its hideous fangs into her side.

This time he did not even flinch with pain when he swiftly picked up his bow, his aim as sure as it had ever been. His arrow hit its mark, but he barely registered that fact. The spider rolled onto its side, releasing Tauriel from its deadly grasp. Kíli did not even spare the beast another glance, but rushed to her side instead when she fell to her knees, her eyes wide with shock, as if she could not quite comprehend what was happening.

Kíli held her by her shoulders as she slumped forward and he carefully lowered her to the ground, his eyes frantically scanning her torso, trying to assess the damage. Blood. There was so much blood already and even as he watched, the dark, red stain on her coat grew larger.

"No, no, no, no, no—ˮ A voice kept repeating that word over and over again and it took Kíli a while to understand that it was his own voice he was hearing. This could not be it. He could not lose her, not like this, not at all.

Shrugging out of his coat, he balled it up to press it against her wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding. With one hand holding the coat in place, he lifted his other hand to her cheek. Her eyes were still wide and unfocused, but his touch made her look at him, even while the panic in her gaze persisted. "Tell me what to do," he begged her. "Please, you have to help me save you. Please!"

For a moment he was not sure she even understood what he was saying, but then she briefly closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they were clear, her breathing much calmer now.

"A leather pouch in my bag," she got out, her voice strained. "It contains herbs that may be used for healing purposes."

Kíli nodded. "Here, hold this as tightly as you can," he said, guiding her hands towards the improvised compress. He tried to hide his worry at how weak the pressure which she managed to exert was.

Quickly he ran over to fetch her bag. They could not afford for her to lose any more blood than she already had. Elves were resilient, he knew that, but he was sure that even they could die from blood loss. Panic constricted his throat at the mere thought of that happening, but he forced it back down. He needed to act as sensibly as he could and he needed to do it now.

Dropping to his knees besides Tauriel's limp form, he went through her bag, randomly pulling out items until he finally located the pouch she had spoken of. He opened it. The herbal smell it exuded instantly reminded him of the kitchen back at the Swallow's Nest and he found himself wishing for the both of them to be back there, safe and sound.

As carefully as his shaking hands allowed, he emptied the pouch's contents onto a clean piece of cloth he had also found among Tauriel's possessions. "What do you need me to do?" he asked her.

As he lifted his eyes to her face, he was shocked by how pale she was, a fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead. She turned her head in order to glance at the plants he had spread out before him, but even this small movement appeared to cause her pain. "There should be a few stems of yarrow," she said. "It grows small, white flowers. Do you see it?"

Kíli scanned the contents of her pouch and was relieved to identify the plant she spoke of immediately. "Yes, I've got it."

"Good." She coughed and winced, letting her head fall back to the ground. "It will help with the bleeding. But what we really need is Athelas. Kingsfoil. Do you recognize it?"

He did indeed. Even before she had used it to save his life he would have, although then he would not have been aware of its healing properties. He extracted all the Athelas he could find from among the plants. "It is all here," he said, leaning over her.

She nodded feebly. "Very well. We need to uncover the wound." He glanced at his coat which was still pressed against her side. Underneath she wore her own coat as well as two or three other layers of clothing. "Cut them open," Tauriel said, as if reading his thoughts. And when he hesitated, she added, "Do it quickly. I am not sure how much longer before the venom will overpower me. And I need to be able to speak, for what needs to be done next."

He glanced at her. Of course. All his attention had been focused on her severely bleeding wound, but he had not even thought about the venom which the spider had to have injected her with. In addition to the weakness which resulted from her loss of blood, the poison was slowly paralysing her. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached for his blade and made quick work of her clothing, a long, straight cut across her midsection revealing the spider's bite.

It looked bad, but he forced himself not to dwell on that. He had seen his fair share of ugly wounds – some of them on his own body – and he would treat this one as he had done all others. He covered the bite with his bunched up coat once more. "Alright. What now?"

"Mix the leaves of both plants together," she instructed, talking clearly becoming more and more of a struggle for her, "and rub them between your palms until they become somewhat sticky. You will need to help me apply them to the bite – my hands are starting to go numb."

Immediately Kíli set about his task. While he worked the leaves with his hands he looked her over, noticing with a fair amount of worry that her eyes were starting to grow unfocused once more. He needed to keep her talking, keep her with him.

"Will this be enough?" he asked, "A few herbs and you will be right as rain?"

Tauriel gave a low chuckle which turned into a pained cough. "You underestimate the power of the seemingly insignificant things this world provides us with. But no, it will not quite suffice. An injury caused by something that sinister needs an incantation, a calling to the spirit. Only once the spirit is at peace, the body can begin to heal."

In the light of how she had saved him back at Laketown, her explanation made perfect sense. There was, however, one crucial difference between the two situations. "And can you do this for yourself?" he asked. "Call your own spirit?"

Tauriel hesitated. "It is possible, as far as I know. But I am not sure if my powers suffice. But I won't know unless I try." She sounded much less sure of herself than Kíli would have liked. As it was, though, they had not other choice.

"I'm ready," he said, the leaves and blossoms warm and moist between his palms.

Tauriel's eyes found his. She was scared. "It will be alright," Kíli tried to reassure her. If only he could say that with more certainty.

At a shaky nod from her, Kíli lifted the bloodstained coat off her wound and began to apply the herbal mixture. Tauriel's body tensed and she hissed in pain. Kíli's first impulse was to remove the yarrow and kingsfoil, but he forced himself to keep going until all of the wound was covered. He could only hope that the pain would not become too much and that Tauriel would not lose her focus.

"My hands," Tauriel said when he finally done. "Help me place them on the wound."

Gently he lifted her hands, shocked at how cold and limp they felt in his. The venom, he reminded himself. It's just from the venom. He covered her hands with his own, holding them in place over her wound.

Tauriel's eyelids fluttered and she closed her eyes, her complete stillness causing Kíli to fear for a moment that he had taken too long in his preparations and that she had lost consciousness. After a few seconds, however, she began to chant, her lips releasing words in her own tongue, sending them out into the cold wintry air of the forest, hoping that they might be heard.

Nothing happened – at least not as far as Kíli could tell. And he thought that Tauriel knew that as well, for even as her voice grew weaker and weaker, it also became more desperate. Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes and Kíli felt his own eyes sting as he watched her struggle, clinging to her life with all the strength she had left.

He gripped her hands more tightly, trying to let her know that he was still there, wishing that there was anything, anything at all that he could do. In a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, he begged for her to be spared, promising that if she lived, he would spend every second of his life trying to make her happy, for he knew that, as of late, he had failed quite miserably in that respect.

And while he was crouched there on the forest floor, his hands holding Tauriel's, the words she spoke suddenly began to make sense to him. Even though it was still Sindarin, he understood her plea for her soul to be released from the darkness it was threatening to slip into, for her body to be allowed to once more walk amongst the ones she loved. His own lips began to move as of their own volition, and when his own voice joined hers in her chant, he looked up in surprise.

Her eyes were open once more and locked unto his. He could not tell if she, too, was surprised by his actions, but either way, he found himself unable to stop now that he had begun. Completely lost in Tauriel's eyes, he did not even notice at first when a bright light began to grow around them. Only when it finally became almost blinding in its intensity did he tear his gaze away, his eyes wide with wonder. Whatever it was that they were doing, it was working.

Eventually the light began to fade and they both fell silent. Kíli hardly dared to look at Tauriel, fearing that, despite what had just occurred, he might find that it had been too late for her to be saved. When he did lift his eyes to her face, however, he was relieved beyond words to find some colour in her cheeks once more, her expression still tense but not nearly as riddled with pain as it had been just moments ago.

Her eyes were wide. "What was that?" she asked.

Kíli smiled, his hands squeezing hers lightly. "What do you mean? You did it. It worked!" Had she not still looked so terribly fragile, he would have pulled her against him right then and there, assuring himself that she really was going to be fine.

"I am not entirely sure that is what happened," she muttered. She tried to sit up, but winced and let her head fall back against the ground.

Any questions that her comment might have raised on Kíli's part were forgotten in his worry for her. "Are you still in pain?"

Tauriel briefly closed her eyes. "I shall be for a little while, I am afraid. The wound has begun to heal, but it will need some time. And there is still venom left in my blood – not enough to paralyse me, but enough to cause me some discomfort."

"But you will be alright eventually?" He still felt as if it were almost too good to be true. For a few moments, it had actually seemed as if he might lose her and now the fact that she was already beginning to recover seemed like the most precious gift.

Finally she smiled, even if weakly. "I will be, I believe." Her eyes left his and flickered to the sky above. "Daylight will begin to fade soon," she said. "I am afraid we will have to remain out here for the night."

Kíli followed her gaze and calculated how much of the day they had left. While their intention when they had set out had been not to stray too far from the Swallow's Nest, their search for good shooting grounds had led them out further than they had intended to go. The hike back would take at least an hour. "I could carry you," he offered.

"No," Tauriel said immediately. "You have already overexerted your shoulder as it is. And besides, there is nothing back at the house that might aide my recovery – we have already done everything that there is to be done."

"Not even a soft couch and a warm fire?"

She smiled. "I will not deny that it is a little tempting. But not nearly enough to put your health at risk."

Kíli nodded. He had spent nights sleeping outside in conditions much worse than this. In this part of the forest, the ground was free of snow and the fallen leaves it was covered in would make for a tolerably comfortable surface to rest on. "Do you think it is safe to build a fire?" Even without snow, it was quite cold and would become colder still when it got dark.

Tauriel worried her lower lip between her teeth, a habit Kíli often observed in her when she was weighing two options against each other. "I do not believe we should," she finally stated. "If we are attacked again, I will not be able to fight."

Even while she spoke, Kíli watched a shiver run through her. "Are you sure that you will be alright out here?" he asked. "You seem cold."

He could tell that she was trying to suppress the slight shaking of her limbs, but still her teeth chattered a little when she replied. "The cold won't harm me. It is merely the remnants of the spider's poison that cause me to experience it more harshly than I normally would."

Kíli was unsure how satisfied he was with her answer. "That does not alter the fact that you are in great discomfort."

Tauriel appeared to weigh their options for a moment. Despite Kíli's protests, she struggled to sit up and take a look around. "You might have a closer look at our surroundings," she said. "Sometimes the oldest of the trees have cave like spaces below their roots. We would be much warmer and more protected there. I will bandage my wound while you search for one."

Kíli hesitated. "Are you quite sure that you can manage on your own?" Clearly she was downplaying the effect the spider's venom still had on her – the shaking of her hands and the pallor of her face did not escape his notice.

She remained insistent. "I have dealt with worse. Please, we are running out of time – the sun will set soon."

Kíli was not happy about it, but he had no choice but to agree with her. And so he began circling their earlier practice ground, trying his best to keep Tauriel within his line of sight.

It took him longer than he had hoped, but when he finally located one of the cavities Tauriel had spoken of, he had to admit that the effort had been worth it. It was larger than he might have expected, relatively dry and protected from both wind and possible rain or snow.

After making sure that there were no traces of any animal having made the small cave its home, Kíli hurried back to Tauriel. He could see immediately that the strain of sitting up had taken its toll on her – she was even paler than before, her face twisted in pain. Her wound, at least, was now cleanly bandaged and she had used her belt to secure her coat over the skin left bare from where Kíli had cut open her clothing.

Kíli quietly knelt down at her side. He was not sure for a moment whether maybe she had fallen asleep, she was so still.

"Did you find something?" Tauriel's voice caught him by surprise, her eyes still closed.

"I did," he replied. "Will you let me help you get there?"

He half expected her to fight him on that point, but all she managed was a feeble nod. His gut twisted with worry and he gently scooped her up into his arms, refusing to pause on how wonderful it felt to be holding her against him like that. This was not about him, or them, but about helping her get better.

She allowed him to carry her to the small cave he had found without further protest and when he returned from fetching the remainder of their belongings, her eyes were closed and her body completely still, causing Kíli to believe that this time she might truly be asleep.

Since there was nothing else he could do right now, he did his best to make her comfortable with the one blanket they had with them and then sat down at the entrance of their little cave, where he could keep watch over both her and their surroundings at the same time.

Darkness had fallen. The sounds of the forest at night differed greatly from those during the day. Kíli was unable to remember whether he had spent a night out here when he had been traveling with Thorin, too murky were his recollections of their fruitless attempts to follow the path Gandalf had sent them in on. They had to have had though, since he thought it impossible that they had traveled such a great distance in one single day, even if that was what it had felt like – one long, confusing day.

He smirked as he recalled how Bombur had fallen into the river. With their rotten luck, of course it had to be the heaviest of their company who needed carrying. Some scraps of conversation from those days still echoed in his mind and he could not help but chuckle at how they had squabbled, completely lost and very much angered by that fact.

He missed them. Not just Fíli and Thorin – all of them. Even Dori and his exaggerated fussing over Ori, Glóin and his thirst for riches, Bofur and his drinking and resulting singing. All those quirks and peculiarities which had been constant companions on their travels.

He glanced at Tauriel's still form and reminded himself that it was alright for him to miss them as long as that did not affect the way he lived in the here and now. What had been mostly a means to an end at first was beginning to turn into a life which he quite liked, as different as it was from anything he had known before. Coming here to Mirkwood, while still debatable in terms of loyalty to his people, might after all not turn out to be one of his worst choices in life. If they got through this night without being eaten by giant spiders, that was.

And so he kept a vigilant watch for many hours, hoping that this period of undisturbed rest would speed up Tauriel's recovery. According to his sense of time, it was well past midnight when she stirred for the first time. He was at her side in an instant, offering her a drink of water from one of their canteens, which she accepted with a grateful but tired smile.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked once she'd had time to collect herself.

She nodded. "The pain is ever fading. It will be fine."

He could not help but notice that she was still shivering. The spider's venom really seemed to be taking its toll on her. The night had been quiet so far, but Kíli thought it too risky still to light a fire. He had already given her their one blanket and was left with nothing else to offer her in order to keep her warm and relieve her of some of her discomfort. Except for himself, that was.

After a few moments of nervous hesitation, Kíli decided to throw all caution to the winds and he climbed over her, careful not to jostle her about.

"What are you doing?" Tauriel asked him while he lifted one edge of the blanket, his heart in his throat as he scooted underneath.

He tried his best to keep his tone calm, neutral. "I know you are still cold. They say that dwarves are quite a hot-blooded race – not only in the metaphorical sense. Let me share some of that warmth with you. Please."

Tauriel did not answer him, and he was not sure anyway whether he would have heard her over the loud pounding of his pulse in his ears. She did, however, relax against him in acceptance of his offer. And so, careful not to brush against her injury, Kíli put his arm across her upper body and gently pulled her closer, so that they might both fit under the blanket and share the heat of each other's bodies.

This was both torture and complete bliss at the same time. As Kíli forced himself to relax, he found himself in awe of how being close to another person could have such a profound effect upon both his body and soul. Yes, he had known desire, had experienced longing and even lust before in his life, but never like this. Never had those feelings squeezed his heart so tightly that he could barely breathe, never had he felt as if one more step, one small touch might cause him to combust.

He hoped that Tauriel couldn't hear his heart hammer in his chest, couldn't feel his racing pulse. She remained completely still and silent for what felt like an eternity and Kíli wondered whether she had fallen asleep once more. A part of him prayed that she had, while another – the one he was desperately trying to control – experienced a profound sense of disappointment at that prospect.

"Are you awake?" Her voice suddenly cut through the silence which surrounded them and in response his heart beat faster still.

He had to struggle to keep his composure, a hysterical laugh threatening to bubble to the surface. Never in his life had he been less likely to fall asleep than right now. "Yes," he finally whispered, hoping that the lack of volume in his voice would hide his underlying thoughts and feelings. "Why are you, though? You should rest."

Tauriel did not reply and Kíli wondered if maybe she felt like him – if maybe she, too, was completely overwhelmed by their physical closeness. After a few moments of silence, she did what he had been too much of a coward to do when she had climbed into his sickbed back at Dale and turned in his arms so that they faced each other.

Kíli wanted to protest that she should lie still, but she silenced him with a small shake of her head. "I am fine," she insisted, and in the light of the mood seeping through the tree roots which constituted the roof of their shelter he could see that she was telling the truth. She wasn't in pain anymore. Exhausted, yes, but not in too much physical discomfort.

Kíli swallowed, his throat suddenly quite dry. Her face was so close and so beautiful in the moonlight that he could have stared at it for hours on end. She was looking right back at him, thoughts and feelings flitting past behind her eyes, too fast for him to grasp.

Mere seconds ago his heart had threatened to explode, his whole body rigid with tension. Now, lying there with her, their eyes locked, he suddenly was perfectly calm. Only once Tauriel shifted almost imperceptibly, bringing her face still closer to his, so close that he felt her breath against his own lips, did his heartbeat pick up speed once more. A by now familiar panic threatened to take hold of him then, all the should nots and could nots he had reiterated to himself time and time again echoing in his head.

"Kíli." Tauriel's voice was barely even a whisper, but it brought him back to the here and now. Her eyes were wide and so very vulnerable when he gazed into them. "Please," she breathed. He did not need to hear her say it to know what it was she was asking for.

It felt like standing on a cliff, preparing to jump into waters unknown. Would you be safe? Or would your body crash against the rocks at the bottom, bruised and broken? Mahal, you've fought trolls, and wargs, and giant spiders, and armies of orcs and goblins, he said to himself. And now you're scared? Of the very thing you want most in the world?

And suddenly Kíli found that he did not care anymore, as if his fears of the future and regrets of the past had been eclipsed by the events of the last few hours, by coming so close to losing the most precious thing in his life. So he finally pushed himself over that edge, prepared to fall.

A slight incline of his head sufficed to brush his lips against hers. The fire that this smallest of touches caused to erupt in his chest nearly consumed him right then and there and he fought to remain in control of himself. Her sharp intake of breath and the way that her eyelids fluttered closed told him that the feeling of his lips upon hers had a similar effect on Tauriel as it had on him.

Maybe it was just a split second, maybe it was much longer than that, but for a little while they both stayed completely still. And then, as if an invisible barrier between them had suddenly been removed, each of them reached for the other, deepening their kiss. Kíli's hand slid from Tauriel's waist to the small of her back and he pulled her against him more firmly, eager now to eradicate even that last bit of space between their bodies. She molded herself right against him, her lips parting in response to his embrace, welcoming him. She sighed softly when he gently took her lower lip between his teeth before fully claiming her mouth once more, hungrily.

One of her hands cupped his cheek, her thumb grazing his stubble. When he felt her tongue push past his lips, all attempts to hold himself back became futile. He rolled on top of her and she welcomed him by wrapping her legs around his waist.

Breathing heavily, Kíli allowed his lips to leave hers, but only to bury his face against the side of her neck, caressing the soft skin he found there with his mouth, his tongue.

Tauriel arched her back in response to his administrations, pushing her body more firmly against his as a result. Kíli could not suppress a small groan on his part and his hand slipped underneath hear tunic, eager to touch more of that perfect skin of hers.

Only when his fingers brushed against the edge of the bandage Tauriel had covered her wound with did he freeze, his mind suddenly aware of their situation and their surroundings once more.

"Don't stop," Tauriel pleaded. Her hands cupped both his cheeks and she pulled his face back up to hers, her lips capturing his once more.

Desire of its purest form caused each and every part of Kíli's body and soul to tingle in anticipation of what she was asking of him, but still he forced himself to pull back. He looked at her, tenderly. "This is not the right time," he whispered. "Not here, not like this."

She frowned, clearly unhappy with what he was saying. "Will there ever be such a thing as a right time?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. He knew what she was implying – since the battle he had pushed her away time and again and now she was rightfully sceptical whether this was not another one of those instances. The terrible thing was that he wasn't even completely sure of that himself. Now that his moment of weakness had passed and he was more in control of himself again, fear began to take hold of his heart once more. Fear of hurting her, fear of losing her. He did not want to feel those things though. He wanted to be done pushing her away, wanted to stop fighting what was between them.

He reached up to push a wayward strand of hair from her face and she leaned into his touch, even though her frown persisted. "I will not turn away from you," he promised. "Not now, not ever."

He knew he was avoiding the heart of the issue and of course she knew it, too. For a moment he thought that this would be the time when she would lose her patience with him, but then he watched a sort of tired acceptance settle on her face. It almost broke his heart.

"Will you stay with me, like this, until morning comes, at least?" she asked.

Carefully Kíli lowered himself on the ground next to her once more, his arms still wrapped around her. "Of course," he said, swallowing against a lump in his throat.

Rolling onto his back he pulled her against his side, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He could not see her face in this position, but even as her body relaxed against his, he was sure that she was wide awake, her mind busy processing what had just transpired between them. And as he buried his face in her hair, her sweet scent making his heart ache, he hoped that they had not just ruined something precious in a moment of passion.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Morning came slowly and stealthily, as it usually did in winter. No rays of sunlight to break through the dark of night, no singing birds to welcome the new day. The hours around dawn were grey and cold, and yet Tauriel felt warm and cozy, and not at all how you might expect to feel after spending a night outside in what was not much more than a hole in the ground.

Kíli's body was warm and firm against hers, the rhythm of his heartbeat the most wonderful sound. With her head upon his chest she had listened to it all night long, letting it's regular beat soothe her thoughts and feelings that were running wild.

The things that had happened between them in the middle of this long and confusing night were enough to make her own heart pick up its pace. The things that she had _wanted_ to do though were another matter. A strange heat began to grow inside of her every time she remembered what the feeling of Kíli's hands on her body, his lips upon hers, had done to her, how they had made her want to do bold, daring things, how the thought of his skin upon hers had almost made her tear off both of their clothes right then and there.

 _Almost_. That seemed to be the word most apt to describe everything that had happened between them since they had met, everything that they were to each other. Almost enemies. Almost lovers. Almost friends.

In the grey light of the morning Tauriel wondered if they would ever succeed at moving their relationship out of that equally grey zone where they were always neither one nor the other. They had transgressed a boundary last night and it had not merely been a physical one. It had been Kíli, though, who had stopped things from spiralling out of their control and now Tauriel was left with the question whether that meant that he would try to go back to the way things had been before. Whether their nightly encounter, short but intense, would be regarded as nothing more than a slip of conduct.

For the remainder of the night, he had held her in his arms, and she had savoured every minute of it. His embrace had, however, been comforting rather than passionate and so very unlike those kisses and touches they had exchanged earlier.

Now she was afraid to begin the day, afraid of what she should find upon his face once they rose. Guilt she might be able to cope with, but regret or, worse, shame would not be so easily digested.

When the inevitable moment came when his embrace slackened and they both sat up, slowly and rather stiffly, Tauriel was relieved to discover that for the time being, Kíli's concern for her wellbeing appeared to eclipse all other things he might be feeling. At least she would not need to face the consequences of what they had done right then and there, in the middle of the forest.

"Let me fetch you some water," he said, rising to his feet and thereby severing the last bit of physical contact between them. Tauriel instantly missed his warmth. He did not quite meet her gaze, but she had half expected that. In the cold light of the morning things were always harder than they were in the silky blackness of night, weren't they?

Quickly he reappeared by her side with the promised water and a small piece of Lembas bread. They had not brought much in the way of food, but surely this would last them until their return to Tuilimbar. Not that Tauriel had much of an appetite anyway.

They both nibbled on a piece of the bread, swallowing it becoming increasingly harder for Tauriel while the tension between them grew. She kept glancing at Kíli to assess his mood, but he appeared lost in thought, his face not giving away anything on how he felt about the previous night.

Eventually he caught her looking and sent her a small, if a little reluctant smile. She took this opportunity to speak, even if her throat constricted at the mere thought of confronting him about what had happened between them. "I wish things did not have to be uncomfortable between us," she said. "If you do not want to discuss what happened, then we won't. But please don't turn away from me." A slight quiver in her voice when she said that last part betrayed the tears that pricked her eyes. She averted her gaze, not wanting to pressure him with her own distress.

Kíli gaped at her. After a moment of stunned silence he quickly put his food aside and scooted a little closer. She was surprised when he took her hands in his and held them firmly. Lifting her eyes to his she found his gaze locked on hers, burning and sad at the same time.

"I told you I wouldn't turn away from you, and that is not at all what is happening," he said. His gaze faltered. "I just- all I really want-"

She never found out what it was he had meant to say, for at this precise moment they were interrupted by a shadow falling over them from above. Kíli was on his feet in an instant, protectively positioning himself in front of her. Tauriel took a little longer to stand up, but was relieved to find that she was steady on her feet when she did. Their fear of a renewed attack was rendered unnecessary, thankfully, by the appearance of Elhadron at the entrance to their small cavern.

All three of them breathed a sigh of relief. "You are alive," Elhadron said, lowering the blade he carried. "When we found some of your belongings we feared the worst."

Craning her neck to look past him, Tauriel saw a handful of other members of the guard gather in front of their shelter - Elhadron's usual convoy. Redirecting her gaze to her friend, she gave him a quick, reassuring smile. "We are both fine." This earned her a raised eyebrow from Kíli who had turned around to look at her. "Or will be, at least," she corrected herself.

Instantly Elhadron's brow creased with worry. "Why, what happened? Were you hurt?"

"It is nothing," Tauriel assured him. It was enough that Kíli should be concerned for her, she did not need to burden Elhadron as well.

Kíli, however, had other plans. "She was bitten," he said, "by one of the spiders."

Elhadron's eyes widened in horror as Tauriel had known they would. Before he could say anything, she intercepted him. "It is true," she said. "But I assure you - I am fine."

Elhadron looked at her long and hard. With his jaw set firmly he finally said, "Let me see the wound."

Tauriel had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course he wouldn't let her off that easily. He, like her, knew that the spiders' bite had only one purpose - a quick death. Usually they would play with their prey, keep it alive for a while before, finally, devouring it. If they felt threatened, however, their deathly incisors with their paralysing venom came into play. Which was exactly what had happened the day before.

Knowing all this, she understood Elhadron's worry. And so, reluctantly, she began to remove the bandages covering her midsection, revealing the bite underneath. Looking at it now, Tauriel wrinkled her nose. It was not a pretty sight - the skin around the bite was purplish, and while it wasn't bleeding any longer, it still looked rather raw, the edges of the wound uneven. The wounds which an elf sustained would often heal without scarring, but Tauriel was not sure that this one would.

Elhadron knelt down before her, looking at her injury with serious concentration. He looked up at her with a surprised frown. "This does not look like a wound sustained a mere day ago," he said. "How is that possible?"

Of course Tauriel had anticipated his reaction, which was one of the reasons why she had tried to hide her injury in the first place. Too many questions she was not quite sure she could answer. "My healing skills are not _that_ rusty," she joked, hoping to evade further questioning.

But of course Elhadron was not distracted so easily. "But on a serious injury you have suffered yourself? I have heard of only few capable of doing that."

Of course Tauriel knew them as well, those great legends among those with the gift of healing. Knew that self-healing of the type they were speaking of was, while not altogether impossible, a very rare skill. With just as much certainty she knew that whatever she had done to save herself, she had not done it alone. Kíli might not have been aware of it, but she had felt the power behind his words very distinctly, had felt his own light join hers in their desperate attempt to prevent her death.

She glanced at Kíli. Even now he showed no signs that he might be concerned about his own role in her healing. "I saw her do it with my own eyes," he said to Elhadron. "So you might as well believe it."

Elhadron studied the young dwarf for a moment. Then his gaze sought Tauriel's once more. She could see that he had more questions and suspected that he was not being told the complete truth. With her eyes she begged him to leave the matter be for now and, eventually, he relented. Tauriel knew that he would not let it rest for a terribly long time, but she hoped that until then she would have the answers he was looking for – or know which to give in their stead.

"I assume you were unable to undertake the journey back to Tuilimbar?" Elhadron asked instead.

Tauriel nodded. "I thought it safer than risking to be out in the open, in the depth of night."

"A wise decision," Elhadron said, a far away look in his eyes that made Tauriel wonder what he and his men were doing out here. His gaze flickered back to the present. "I will accompany you on your return journey."

Tauriel wanted to reject his offer, but he shook his head. "I know you are more than capable of defending yourselves," he said, addressing both her and Kíli. "But you have just suffered one attack. Allow me to come, in case there is another. Also, I could use this opportunity to discuss some developments."

Tauriel inclined her head in acceptance, her curiosity piqued. What developments?

While they gathered their things, Elhadron spoke to his men, instructing them about how to proceed without him. When her bag was packed, Tauriel made to lift it onto her shoulder, but was stopped by Kíli's hand on her lower arm. Surprised, she looked up. He was standing quite close and when their eyes met, she experienced an instant rush of those same feelings from the night before, that desire to just be touched by him so fierce it left her breathless. For a moment she saw that same fire burn on his eyes as well, but then he dropped his gaze to look at her bag.

"Let me carry that for you," he said, only a slight raspiness to his voice hinting that he, too, struggled to maintain his composure. "You are still hurting."

"So are you," Tauriel gently reminded him, but he merely shook his head.

"I am fine. I just need to regain my strength." He smirked. "And what better way to do that than carrying an additional load."

Tauriel gave up. "Fine. But do not complain to me if your shoulder hurts when we return."

"It won't." Kíli hoisted her bag onto his good shoulder and gave an exaggerated groan. "By Durin's beard, what have you got in there? An anvil?"

Tauriel hid her smile under a snort. "I believe that would be an item more likely to be found in a dwarf's luggage, wouldn't it?"

Their banter continued like that while they exited their temporary shelter, and Tauriel cherished every second of it. It was so easy to forget all those painful, confusing feelings, just for a moment. When they passed by Elhadron on their way out and she saw him muster them both with slightly amused confusion, Tauriel blushed, but did not avert her eyes. She was not ashamed for her feelings, even if they were sometimes hard to bear.

As they began their journey back to Tuilimbar, Tauriel fell into step behind Kíli, her eyes resting on his back. She wondered if, given the choice, she would want to simply continue like this, exchanging lighthearted banter with him instead of words heavy with sorrow. If she would rather forget last night had ever happened instead of risking him distancing himself from her once more. But no, she concluded, those things between them needed to be addressed eventually. If they weren't, they would simply keep going around in circles, always repeating the same mistakes, always ending up getting hurt.

With her mind thus preoccupied, Tauriel did not notice immediately that Elhadron had accelerated his step and was now walking beside her. Only when he spoke did she become aware of his presence.

"The blood you and Kíli found," he said, pulling her out of her musings, "appears to belong to one of two young cadets in the king's guard. They have both been unaccounted for for several days, and it is currently believed that they went off together on some unauthorized mission."

Tauriel frowned. "An unauthorized mission? Why would they do such a thing?"

"Because they are young and foolish," Elhadron returned. "Also, I believe even the wiser among us are quite capable of going off on their own without permission from time to time."

He have her a pointed stare which she answered with a roll of her eyes. "I know how to look after myself, though," she returned, even while she thought about what might had happened to her the night before, had Kíli not been there. „Either way, tell me more about those missing cadets."

"There is not much to tell. I can only suspect that they, like you and Kíli, discovered traces of a nest and followed them in an attempt to prove themselves."

Tauriel nodded. She still remembered how it felt to be so very young that no one thought you capable of doing anything by yourself and how that might drive some to do reckless things. Truth be told, sometimes she still felt that way. "Do you think they were both killed in the attack?"

Elhadron seemed pensive. "To determine that is one of the reasons we came out here today. Where we found you, instead."

Tauriel pressed her lips together. "It was a close call," she admitted. "The spiders are as strong as ever, and their numbers larger than I assumed. I feel foolish now that we weren't more careful. We should not have come out here unprepared."

Elhadron inclined his head to one side. "You could not have known. I, too, thought they had scattered, their power diminished."

A shiver ran down Tauriel's back as she observed the forest around them. Would they ever be able to rid it of this darkness? "Maybe those that are left are gathering to form new nests."

Elhadron appeared as concerned as she was. "That would be bad news indeed," he said.

They walked in silence for a while. Kíli was still up ahead, hiking through the forest in apparent determination. Tauriel wondered if he was eager to get away from her or if he, like her, longed to finally return to Tuilimbar.

Again, Elhadron interrupted her thoughts.

"Concerning that wound of yours...," he began, causing Tauriel to tense up inside. „I know there is something you are not telling me and I am not going to make you say it if you do not want to. You should, however, consider visiting the Old Healers back at the palace. Not just to look at the bite, but also to discuss the circumstances under which it was healed."

The Old Healers. Tauriel had not had any business with them for a long time. Unlike Faerveren and Iondaer, they confined themselves to the palace, where they spent most of their time studying ancient healing lore. They were wise beyond measure, and yet Tauriel had always preferred Iondaer's and Faerveren's more practical, experimental approach to the healing profession.

Elhadron was not wrong, though, for suggesting she might want to go speak to them. If there was anyone who might have knowledge about what it was that had happened when she had attempted to heal herself with Kíli's assistance, it was them. Which did not mean that she was at all certain she even wanted to bring this issue to their attention.

Kíli had told her himself that he felt changed since Thranduil had saved his life, as if there was something inside him that had not been there before. What if this was it? What if what he had brought back with him from the brink of death was the gift of healing? Tauriel had never heard of such a thing happening, but that did not mean that it was altogether impossible.

How the possibility that a young dwarf might suddenly be bestowed with the ability to heal would be received by her own kind was what made her reluctant to share her thoughts on the matter. Also, what if this was not the only thing he had brought back with him?

Fear began to clutch at Tauriel's insides. There were stories of those who had come a little too close to death and had returned to the world of the living with some of its darkness following in their wake. Kíli had just begun to recover both in body as in spirit and she could hardly bear the thought of potentially losing him to something that was beyond her grasp, beyond her power to fight.

She shook herself. Stories. That was what those tales were. There was nothing about Kíli that gave her reason to suspect that any sinister powers had played a part in his survival. If anything, she had felt his own light burn more brightly since he had been returned to her, and that despite the despair over losing Fíli and Thorin that continued to weigh down his spirit.

Still, she was hesitant to divulge any of yesterday's occurrences to an outsider. She did not want for Kíli to become an object to be studied and scrutinised by the scholars amongst her kind. Neither was she certain that he was ready for the intense questioning of his innermost soul that such inquiries would necessarily result in when he was just beginning to regain his balance.

And you do not want this to be the next thing to stand between the two of you, a voice inside her reminded her. She chided herself for being so selfish, but it was the truth. She could not help it.

Love, it seemed, was not only selfless, but also greedy, jealous, and yes, selfish. There was not a doubt in her mind that she would gladly give her life for Kíli's, would always put his well-being above hers. But in exchange she wanted all of him for herself and with every day which passed that fact became more and more obvious to her.

Even though he did not know any of this, Elhadron appeared to sense her struggle. "I hope you will consider my suggestion," he said. "Ignorance can be a dangerous thing."

Tauriel sighed. "So can knowledge. But yes, I will think about it."

Elhadron inclined his head, apparently satisfied for the time being. After another few moments spent in companionable silence, he slowed his step. Tauriel turned to look at him questioningly.

"Tuilimbar is up ahead," he said. "I shall leave you now. If I hurry I may still catch up with the others."

Tauriel nodded in understanding. As a former captain she knew what it felt like to be responsible for guards of lower rank and what it could do to you if you felt that you were abandoning this responsibility, even if it was for a good reason. "Thank you," she said sincerely, "for everything."

Elhadron gave a slight bow, first to her and then to Kíli, who had circled back to see what the hold up was. "If you do not mind I shall stop by on our way back to the palace and tell you what we found."

"Please do," Tauriel said and her invitation was joined by an affirmative nod from Kíli.

"I would certainly sleep better if we knew what is going on out there," he said. He was not making a secret out of the fact that he had overheard hers and Elhadron's conversation. Why would he have? Everything that had been said between them concerned him as well, in one way or the other.

Elhadron acknowledged this statement with another incline of his head. "So would I." Turning to Tauriel he added, "We are not supposed to track the nest, and were only sent to investigate the fate of the two cadets. Still, I will try to gather as much information as I can."

Tauriel nodded. Of course the king would not want his subjects to put themselves in unnecessary danger by going after the spiders. After all, she and Kíli themselves had volunteered for that task. "Thank you," she said to Elhadron. "Your efforts are very much appreciated."

He smiled. "I know. I will see you soon." And with that he turned and disappeared between the trees, as silently as only an elf could.

Alone once more. Tauriel glanced at Kíli out of the corner of her eye. The way he looked after Elhadron reminded her of their first day at Tuilimbar. However, the tension between them, while still there, was nowhere near as bad as it had been back then. This fact she noted with some relief, even while her nervousness about what the remainder of the day might reveal about their shared future made it hard to breathe.

She turned her gaze towards Tuilimbar, anxiety clutching at her chest. She dared not look at Kíli, for the simple fear of discovering a reluctance to be alone with her in his gaze.

Her heart nearly stopped when, without warning, Kíli suddenly reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. Frozen in shock, it took her a moment to respond to his tentative touch, but then she quickly returned the pressure of his hand. They looked at each other and shared a shy smile, as if there was a secret between them which only they knew.

And while her mind wanted to ask questions about what this gesture of his meant for them, her heart convinced her to simply enjoy the moment for once, and to revel in the warmth of his touch she had longed for so much.

"Let's go home," Kilí said after a while, causing the brightest of smiles to spread across Tauriel's face. There that word was again. _Home_. And together they started on those last few steps on their journey, their joined hands a tentative sign, an inkling of hope, that it was not too late yet fort hem to overcome the obstacles fate had tossed into their path.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Alright, so this was long overdue. Hope you enoy! Let me know what you think in a review. Also, make sure to read Chapter 18 first, if you haven't aready. I did not receive the usual update notification when I upcloaded it, so maybe it has gone somewhat unnoticed._

 **Chapter 19**

With a frustrated groan, Kíli sat up in his narrow bed, his blanket sliding off his body and onto the floor. Leaning forward, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to erase the images he kept seeing in his mind, robbing him off any chance at going to sleep.

For once, it was neither the terrible fate of his brother and uncle that haunted him and made it impossible to find some rest nor the nightmarish creatures he had encountered on his travels. What had kept him awake instead for the better part of the night were his memories of the things that had happened between himself and Tauriel out there in the forest and, worse, his fanatsies about what might have come to pass had he not managed to restrain himself. His remembrance of her breath against his skin, her fingers in his hair, and the taste of her on his tongue were more than enough to set his heart racing, his insides burning with bottomless desire.

"Stop it," he said into the quietness of his empty room. "Just stop."

But even as he spoke those words, he knew that there was a powerful part of him that did not want to stop conjuring up such images, a part that was by far not done tormenting both his heart and his mind with those fantasies. It took all of his willpower to stop himself from getting out of bed right then and there to find Tauriel wherever it was that she was spending the night and finish what they had started before, during that cold, dark winter's night.

The thing that made it all so much worse, that made his longing so much harder to resist, was that in all likelihood she felt the same. Her own desire – he had seen it in her eyes, felt it in each and every of her touches. And not just the ones they had exchanged during that fateful night, no, even the most innocent of brushes of skin against skin had since been laced with fire, leaving behind a burning sensation on his flesh.

He tried to bring himself to regret the events of the night spent in the forest, but found that he could not. Never had he felt as he had then, his soul soaring sky high with each of her touches. He wanted nothing more than to feel that way again, but still he kept holding himself back.

That afternoon, when they had returned to the Swallow's Nest, he had surprised himself by boldly taking her hand in his, for once allowing both of them this physical expression of their attraction for each other without pulling away from it immediately as he had done so many times before. And it had felt good. So good, in fact, that they had not let go of each other until they had reached the front door, where passing through with their hands joined would have become a bit of an awkward task.

It was one thing though to share a gesture of affection as innocent as holding hands. Had Kíli known that things would go no further than that, he might have allowed himself the comfort of such touches without hesitation. As it was, however, he knew that one thing could only ever lead to another between them. They had gotten too close already, had seen into the abyss of the other's soul. There simply was no way that what was between them could ever remain innocent and pure – too raw were their feelings, to fragile their hearts. And yet Kíli felt that that was exactly what Tauriel deserved. Something innocent. Something pure. For a while at least, until things had settled, until they were more than two people who had just met and were now living under one roof.

And he wanted to be the one to give such a thing to her. He realised this now. If he stayed – and he had no intention of doing otherwise – then it would not be merely as friends. They were past that stage already, had been for a long time. It just had taken him a good long while to realize it.

The question was, then, how could they be something other than friends without running the risk of ruining everything between them that was good? Without him hurting her by getting too close too soon?

Certainly not by stalking and assaulting her in the middle of the night, he thought, forcing himself to relax the iron grip of his fingers on the wooden frame of his bed. With a sigh he retrieved his blanket from the floor and lay back down on his mattress, staring at the patterns the moonlight was drawing on the ceiling. It was too late, though, for now that he had verbalized the thought, he could not shake it. If he did get up indeed, what would happen when he found her?

His internal struggle about doing what was right versus what every fibre of his being wanted him to do was ended abruptly when the door to his room silently opened. Kíli held his breath. The pale light of the moon revealed Tauriel standing there in his doorway, hesitating on the threshold.

Kíli fought the urge to sit up and remained completely still as she slowly made her way into the room, her light steps not producing a single sound on the wooden floor. She proceeded to sit down on the very edge of his bed.

For a while neither of them spoke, and Kíli wondered if maybe she thought him asleep. His eyes were wide open and the light entering the room from outside should have sufficed to reveal that fact. Tauriel was, however, not looking at him, but staring at the floor instead. Her hair was undone and the locks falling over her shoulders prevented Kíli from reading the expression on her face.

"I was able to hear you toss and turn from the other side of the house." Her voice was quiet, but in the silence of the night the sound of it came so unexpected that Kíli gave a slight start.

He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. "I... I had some trouble finding rest tonight," he said, nervousness closing up his throat. What was she doing here?

Still, Tauriel did not look at him. "I, too, have been finding it difficult to sufficiently relax both my mind and my body," she admitted.

Kíli's heart was threatening to burst out his chest by now. "And why is that?" he asked, his mouth suddenly quite dry.

Tauriel shifted on the bed, so that she was finally looking at him. She was always beautiful, but never quite as painfully so as when the white light of the moon illuminated her pale, flawless skin. Even in the semidarkness, Kíli could tell that a slight blush coloured her cheeks, her eyes wide with the same yearning he felt clawing at his chest. "I think you already know the answer to that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

They stared at each other for a moment, both of them frozen in place. Kíli thought that by now Tauriel had to be able to hear the wild thumping of his heart. And then, as if on cue, they both moved, clashing together like two waves out on the wide, wide sea, rejoicing in the fact that they have finally found one another.

Kíli sat up while Tauriel fully climbed into his bed, and with his hands on her narrow hips he pulled her onto his lap. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders as she straddled him and without wasting another breath, their lips came together in a bruising kiss.

When her tongue caressed his lips, asking for entry to his mouth and allowing him another taste of her, his hands slid away from her hips and he wrapped his arms around her in a passionate embrace, pulling her as firmly against him as he dared without fearing he might hurt her. Even through his blanket she had to be aware of his arousal in this position, but Kíli found that he was not embarrassed by this. On the contrary, he wanted her to know exactly what she was doing to him, wanted her to feel the evidence of that desire coursing through his veins.

Tauriel broke their kiss with a small gasp and Kíli thought he might actually lose his senses when she rolled her hips, adding friction to pressure and making his blood boil. His fingers dug into the flesh at the small of her back and she dipped her head back in response, allowing him access to the tender skin of her throat and neck. He buried his face against that skin with a sigh, and before he knew it, he had begun to caress her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

For once there was no thought, no reason, but only feeling governing his actions, and he lost himself completely in his administrations to her body, every sigh escaping her lips sending a jolt of desire straight to his loins. Suddenly Tauriel's hands were no longer on his shoulders, but sliding under the hem of his shirt instead, tugging the garment up over his torso and head. If the air in the room was cold, Kíli did not feel it. All he felt were her fingers on his bare back, tracing invisible patterns with her fingernails.

With a low groan he wrapped his arms even more firmly around her and, holding her to himself, leaned forward and lowered her onto her back so that he came to lie on top of her, her slender legs wrapped around his hips. Tauriel did not protest, not by far, instead she cupped his face in her palms and pulled him down for another kiss, deeper and more urgent than any they had shared before.

Kíli lifted himself off of her enough to be able to work the lacings of her dress. Thank Mahal she was not wearing the leather bodice she often wore on top of it, for he would not have had a clue how to get her out of that. When his fingers reached her midsection, however, he stilled.

Tauriel broke their kiss. "What is it?"

"Your wound," he muttered, glancing down at her half open dress. "I do not want to hurt you."

Tauriel grabbed his face between her hands and forced him to look her in the eye. "You aren't hurting me," she insisted, "and you won't."

Still he hesitated. If he proceeded now, there would be no turning back, he knew that. With this one last material barrier between them, the last bit of his ability to restrain himself would disappear as well. He felt like an animal admitting this to himself, but it was the truth. And still – didn't she deserve so much more?

"Kíli, look at me," Tauriel said when his eyes began to drift. In her gaze he saw his own longing reflected, but also a fierce kind of resolution. "I am no princess, no delicate jewel. Please do not treat me as one. I will not break – do not hold yourself back. Please don't."

They stared at each other for a long moment and Kíli felt his reservations beginning to crumble. Finally he nodded, turning his face so as to place a kiss into her palm. The kiss was innocent enough, but still he did not miss Tauriel's sharp intake of breath in reaction to it. Spurred on by this, he proceeded to place soft kisses along her wrist and lower arm, delighted by how this caused her hips to lift of the mattress, her body writing beneath his.

When he reclaimed her mouth for another kiss his doubts were all but forgotten, his hunger for her consuming his entire being. Her hands left his face to finish the work he had started on her dress and in no time she had shrugged out of it, the garment disappearing as mysteriously as his shirt had before.

Kíli sighed with pleasure when skin finally touched skin, her half-naked body underneath his molding itself to him like the missing piece of a puzzle. Supporting himself with one hand against the mattress, his free hand daringly skimmed across her upper body until he cupped one perfect, firm breast in his palm. A part of him could not believe he was actually doing this, while another, more intuitive part took charge and gently squeezed the flesh beneath his palm. Tauriel broke their kiss at that, her head falling back onto the mattress with a loud gasp. Kíli made to withdraw his hand, but her own arm shot up, her fingers closing around his wrist.

"Don't you dare stop now," she panted.

Smirking, Kíli dipped his head to place featherlight kisses along her collar bone while his hand obeyed her command and continued its administrations. He felt a little mischievous when he eventually replaced the touch of his hand with his mouth, his lips closing around her hardened peak. He did not have to wait for her reaction and smiled a little when she arched her back, her hands sliding into his hair, holding his head in place.

He kept going like this for a little while, before eventually turning his attention to other issues. With his mouth he trailed kisses across her taut stomach, carefully avoiding the area around her wound. Past her navel he went, and when he reached the waistband of her leggings, he hesitated only for a split second before hooking both his thumbs into it, pulling it down her endlessly long legs. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right and not leave things between them only half finished.

Tauriel appeared to share this sentiment of his, for her hands hurried to imitate his actions and she made quick work of his own pants, somehow managing to avoid any kind of awkward fumbling as she helped him out of them.

This was it. For a few moments they simply lay on top of one another, their foreheads touching while each fought to accommodate the overwhelming sensation of sharing each and every inch of skin, of overcoming this final barrier. Kíli felt Tauriel's heart beat rapidly beneath his own, and he realised that she, like himself, was nervous about taking this plunge into uncharted waters. With the almost delirious haze that filled his head clearing for a moment, he captured her lips in a tender kiss, a kiss that he hoped conveyed to her everything that this night meant to him, showing her that it was alright for herself to let herself fall, for he would be there to catch her.

Tauriel returned his kiss, her hands reaching up to cradle his face between them. Before too long, their kiss deepened once more, losing some of its innocent sweetness in the process. Kíli felt dizzy as his desire returned with full force, threatening to wipe all coherent thought from his mind. He thought he might simply lose control altogether when Tauriel's legs parted a little further, bringing him close, so close to finally joining his body to hers completely.

He forced himself to take things slowly – a feat made so much harder by the fact that she all but beckoned to him with her body, rolling her hips so that he quivered against her, his responding groan silenced by her lips on his. When he finally did give in, he eased himself into her inch by inch while tiny stars exploded behind his closed eyelids, the exquisiteness of being joined to her in this most intimate manner almost too much to bear.

Tauriel's fingernails dug into the flesh of his upper arms, but he felt no pain – if anything the sensation served to heighten his pleasure even more. "Look at me," she demanded. "Please."

He obeyed her request and opened his eyes. In the corners of her own eyes he saw tears beginning to gather, but he could see they were no tears of sadness. Her cheeks were flushed with her arousal and when she smiled his own heart sang in response. "You make me feel alive," she whispered, echoing the words he had said to her in what seemed another life.

He swooped down to capture her lips in a deep, bruising kiss, a kiss into which he poured all those things he felt for her. She responded in kind and slowly they began to move together, their bodies dancing in unison to a song neither had known beforehand.

Kíli could not say if hours went past or mere minutes, all connection to the world around them lost for a while. His breath became heavier as their rhythm increased, Each and every sigh that escaped Tauriel's lips threatening to push him over that final edge. As he felt himself draw near to this point of no return, he sat up, pulling her with him so that she straddled his lap once more, hoping that this change of positions might help him last a little longer still.

Clearly he had underestimated Tauriel's ability to taunt him, for she used her newly won control to quicken their pace, taking him deeply inside her. Kíli's head fell against her collarbone, his fingertips pressing into the the flesh at the small of her back, encouraging her to keep going. Suddenly her hands were at the back of his neck, pulling his head back and tilting it upward, so that he looked at her once more.

Her eyes were dark with desire, and Kíli witnessed the exact moment when she reached that final peak. As he felt her clench around him, he, too, finally allowed himself to let go, the most powerful wave of pleasure washing over him while they moved against each other frantically, each trying to prolong that sweet moment of release.

With all their energy spent, they remained in their position for a long while, neither wanting to abandon this moment of perfect closeness. Kíli reached up a trembling hand to brush a strand of hair from Tauriel's face and she smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as the turned her cheek into his palm. Kíli felt a goofy smily spread across his own lips and he quickly captured her lips in a soft kiss in order to hide it. At this precise instant he felt so happy, so utterly blissful, that he thought his heart might simply explode in his chest.

During all this time, none of them spoke a single word, neither wanting to ruin what seemed so right and so perfect by maybe saying the wrong thing. That aside, Kíli was not sure whether he would have been able to form a coherent sentence anyway, his limbs suddenly quite heavy, and his head spinning slighty. When Tauriel eventually slid of his lap, he kept his amrs wrapped lightly around her waist, so that she might not even get the idea of leaving him. His caution would not have been necessary, for she proceeded to lie down on his mattress, pulling him with her so that she was pressed against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

They lay like that for a while and eventually Kíli felt rational thought beginning to return to him, words starting to form at the back of his head, threatening to spill out into the darkness of the night. Tauriel silenced them by lifting her head to kiss him once more.

"Sleep," she whispered, reching up to brush her fingers over his brow as if trying to wipe his thoughts away.

And for once he did not protest. He did, however, reach up to cup the back of her neck, pulling her down for another kiss, much less innocent than the one he had just received from her.

She smiled against his lips and, satisfied in all senses of the word, Kíli let his head fall back against his pillow, sleep claiming him almost instantly. His companion found herself wishing, for once, to be granted this same kind of complete oblivion, but knew that it was not in her nature. Instead she resorted to watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, marvelling at the feeling of truly being one with another person, of looking into another being's soul.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: So sorry for the wait! I'm also sorry if this chapter does not exactly fulfill any hopes for some morning-after-bliss that you might have had. There are some issues that I have opened up along the way that need to be addressed before we can get to that sort of thing (which we will! Soon!)._

 **Chapter 20**

As the first rays of sunlight tickled her skin, their gentle warmth a welcome change to the cold air of early morning, Tauriel marvelled at how the world around her could be at such complete peace when inside of her a storm was raging. Hear heart hammered in her chest every time she replayed the events of the night gone by in her mind, her body still thrumming from being touched in a way it had never been touched before.

What she and Kíli had done – it had been impulsive, it had been reckless, and maybe not the most virtuous thing to do. It had been the best thing she had ever done in her entire life. And she wanted more of it.

Still, she was out here as the sun slowly rose in the sky, signaling the end of a night which had changed everything, instead of back in Kíli's arms, soaking up his warmth. When the blackness of the sky had slowly changed to grey, her lover's sleep had become more restless. Another nightmare, Tauriel had assumed, and had felt sorrow at the fact that he was not spared from them even for this one, special night.

Then, however, Kíli had begun to mumble, his words not making sense to Tauriel at first. She had lifted her head to look at him, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

"She is far away from me," Kíli had suddenly whispered. "Far, far away from me. She walks in starlight in another world."

Tears had pricked the corners of Tauriel's eyes. He was not having a nightmare after all – he was dreaming of the night she had saved him from his poisoned arrow wound.

Kíli had calmed down once more when she had laid her hand on his bare chest and she had swallowed against a lump forming in her throat. Why did he dream of that event tonight, of all nights?

 _Because you formed a bond then that nothing has managed to sever, not even death_ , she tried to reassure herself. Still, a devious, always doubting part of herself was not so sure about that.

 _She is far away from me... she walks in starlight in another world_. Back then, in Bard's house, she might have agreed with him. They belonged to different worlds, no matter how much they were drawn towards one another. Soon after finding him at Laketown, she had however come to see things differently, the feelings that stirred in her chest every time she looked at the handsome dwarf making her question all the things she had thought she'd known for so long. But what if, despite everything they had been through, despite last night, Kíli still thought of her that way? That the differences between them could not be overcome and they would always remain separate, no matter how close they got?

That thought had saddened her, stealing away some of the bliss she had experienced before, lying there in Kíli's arms. In the end, that was however not what had driven her out of his embrace and out into the cold morning air where she sat now, trying to gather her thoughts.

What troubled her so deeply were her suspicions about the part Kíli had played in healing her wound. Or rather, her guilt over not having spoken to him about them still. She knew this had to change, but she dreaded what that knowledge might do to him – to them.

He was finally beginning to heal from the trauma of losing his brother and uncle and almost dying himself. What good could raising the issue do except to tear open those wounds, reminding him of the circumstances surrounding his survival?

By now Tauriel believed that she knew Kíli well enough to know that her suspicions would trouble him, would shake the confidence with which he had begun to settle into his new life – _their_ life. He would worry once more about how Thranduil's healing had affected him, always wondering whether maybe he had come back wrong from his slightly too close encounter with death. Tauriel firmly believed those worries to be ungrounded, but still she understood that the mere thought made Kíli uneasy.

How, then, was she supposed to approach this sensitive issue? For approach it she must, that much she knew. If only she were able go about it with a clear head, instead of being as distracted by the events of the night before as she currently found herself to be.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, her breath forming a small white cloud in the cold air. When she opened her eyes again, she felt much calmer, a plan beginning to form in her head. She would heed Elhadron's advice and seek out the Old Healers back at the palace, but she would do so without Kíli's knowledge. If they were really able to tell her something about the whole situation which she did not already know, then she might at least be able to answer some of the questions Kíli was sure to have once she brought the issue to his attention.

Speaking to him before she had gathered any knowledge might only cause unnecessary harm. Maybe it would even turn out that she had been wrong and that the force by which she had healed had been hers alone. Yes, she really needed to clarify those things first, before taking the risk of breaking something that could not be fixed.

Her resolution thus fortified, she abandoned her spot on the steps leading up to Tuilimbar and quietly went inside. She would not need to bring much, but wanted to at least fetch her bow. She had left it in the library where they had sat together once more the night before, reading from Faerveren's letters and tending to their weapons.

As she retrieved her bow from where it rested against the wall on the far side of the room, her gaze fell onto the pile of documents sitting beside the small chest she had inherited from her former tutor. This were the letters she had Kilí had already perused, piecing together the history of Faerveren and Iondaer. She hesitated. One thing she had learned from those recordings of the past was that secrets were love's greatest enemy. With his secretiveness about his past Iondaer had made it very hard for Faerveren to get close to him, and Tauriel would not have been surprised had she given up trying altogether.

Was that what was happening right now as well? Was she pushing Kíli away by keeping things from him, going behind his back to uncover a truth she was not sure he was ready to hear? _I merely want to protect him_ , she argued in her mind, even while she knew that there was more to it than that, that she was scared of confronting him with the issue and hoped to find a way to avoid having to do so.

While her eyes were still fixed on the pile of letters, her mind running over the possibilities that the path she chose might open up, fate decided to spare her this difficult decision. Something – a slight noise maybe or a change in the air – made her look up and she saw Kíli standing in the doorway. His feet were bare, his hair a tangled mess, and his shirt hung half open. Immediately her mind began to conjure up images of her fingers in his hair and her hands on his skin, but she did her best to shake them off.

As her eyes flickered to his face, she was met with a look of confusion and – she realised with a sinking feeling in her stomach – hurt.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, his voice still a little raspy from sleep.

Tauriel felt her face heat up and she fumbled for words. "I wanted—ˮ she began, "I mean, I was going to go out and hunt." The lie tasted awful on her tongue, but she was scared, so very scared of what would happen when she finally told him the truth.

Kíli studied her for a long moment, her face burning under his gaze. In the end, she could not fight the impulse to avert her eyes and stare at the bow in her hands instead.

"Were you?" Kíli asked as he stepped closer, so close that she could not avoid looking at him any longer.

His eyes were darkened by a mixture of emotions Tauriel was unable to clearly identify and she felt her knees go slightly weak, a sudden desire to crush her lips to his and repeat some of last night's actions washing over her. It was the hurt she saw in his eyes that made her refrain from doing so.

She sighed. "No," she admitted, "I wasn't. I was going to go to the palace. There are people there I ought to talk to about what happened."

Kíli's expression turned to one of utter bewilderment for a moment. "You want to talk to them about last night?"

Tauriel was so taken aback by this assumption of his that it took her a couple of seconds to reply. "What? No!" she exclaimed, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red. She stuttered. "What— What I meant was that I should tell them about what happened out in the forest. The spiders. The bite." she hesitated, but then gave up. She might as well tell him the whole truth now. "About how you healed me."

Kíli nodded absentmindedly – clearly that last bit had not quite registered with him yet. She saw the exact moment when it did, his eyes widening in confusion. "What did you just say?" he spluttered.

Tauriel sighed. This was not at all how she had imagined this conversation. She gestured towards the two armchairs. "Will you sit down with me for a moment?" She could see that he wanted to refuse, but clearly he was too overwhelmed to do so and proceeded to lower himself onto one of the chairs instead, his body rigid with tension.

Sitting down herself, Tauriel half reached out to take his hands in hers, but then drew back and folded her hands in her lap instead. "When you think back to what happened after I was injured, do you not remember feeling something quite... unusual?"

Kíli frowned. "It all happened so fast. I remember being scared – so very scared of losing you. And then— I don't know."

"Then something changed?" Tauriel offered.

Kíli considered this for a while. "Well, yes. I felt warm, and fuzzy, and like everything was going to be alright for a change." He shook himself as if trying to get rid of an unwanted thought. "But that was all you," he said, "wasn't it?"

Tauriel held his gaze for a long moment. "I am not sure it was," she finally admitted.

Kíli gaped at her. "What does that mean?"

Tauriel heaved another sigh, searching for the right words to explain what she thought might have happened. "When I tried to heal myself, nothing happened at first. My hope was fading fast – I knew that I would not be able to save my own life, for this takes an enormous amount of power. Power that I do not possess. But then I was suddenly touched by a light that took away the pain – however that wasn't my own light. I believe it was yours. You healed me. Or added the power which I lacked, at the very least."

"That is quite impossible." Kíli attempted a laugh, but there was no mirth in it. "I cannot even properly bandage a minor wound. And I most certainly cannot cure a fatal injury – with nothing but a few herbs no less."

Tauriel's voice was soft when she replied. "And yet you did."

Kíli stared at her for a couple of seconds and then rose from his seat to walk over to the window where he silently gazed out into the cold morning light. Tauriel wanted to go over to him and wrap her arms around him, but she chose to give him some space instead.

"A few weeks ago," she said eventually, "you told me that you sometimes feel as if what happened atop Ravenhill had changed you. That there was something inside you that hadn't been there before."

Kili turned to look at her, his arms wrapped around himself protectively. "And you think that is it? That I am some kind of healer now?" He sounded quite incredulous and now that he was saying those words aloud, Tauriel herself began to doubt their truth once more. It _was_ all rather improbable, wasn't it?

"I have thought about that, yes," she said truthfully. „And yet I cannot make heads or tails of it. Which is why I wanted to speak to some very experienced healers at Thranduil's court and ask them if they had ever heard of such a thing."

"Of a dwarf who can heal people?" Kíli's forehead was creased with worry and confusion.

"Of someone being granted the gift of healing in a case like yours," she returned. "Of someone not being born with it, like I was. Like all the healers I know were."

His frown remained. "You call it a gift," he said. "But what if it is a curse?"

This time Tauriel did cross over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "The ability to heal another person is in itself a pure thing – there is no kind of magic less dark in this world, I would say. I do not think you need to worry about that."

She tried her best not to be disappointed by the fact that he did not reach for her hand or acknowledge her touch in any other way. At least he appeared to relax his stance, even if only a little. "Who knows what else I've brought back with me from the brink of death," he said absentmindedly. "I'm not even sure who I am anymore."

With a gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder, she encouraged him to turn towards her, so that he was facing her directly. Putting her other hand against his cheek, she said, "I know exactly who you are. And that there is nothing you need to be afraid of."

For a moment he leaned into her touch, but then Tauriel witnessed his barriers go up once more and he withdrew slightly. This was exactly what she had even afraid of – that his fear of somehow having come back wrong would drive a wedge between them.

"Come with me to the palace," she said, hoping to offer him some kind of perspective at the very least. "Maybe we will find some answers that that will put your mind at ease."

Kíli's gaze was doubtful still. "What if we don't?"

"Then we will take it from there," Tauriel returned in as reassuring a manner as she was capable of.

When Kíli finally nodded in consent, it did only little to to ease Tauriel's anxiousness, for the feelings he was battling were plainly visible in his eyes. And so it was with great worry that she gazed after him as he set off to fetch his things and prepare for yet another trip to Thranduil's caverns. It was hard to believe that mere hours ago they had lain in each other's arms, all their troubles forgotten for a brief time. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes when she thought about how she might just have ruined any chance of ever being with him again in that way, but she swallowed them down. She needed to be strong for him now. And she needed to be confident that they would make it through this storm – together.

They were both quiet during their journey to the palace. There was much Tauriel could have said, but she chose to stay silent. Too great was her fear of being rejected in any offer of comfort that she might have given Kíli. It had been one thing to be shut out by him when those final boundaries between them had still been intact, but now that she had given herself to him in every sense of the word, it was another matter altogether. She felt more vulnerable now than she ever had, as if one false step might just shatter her heart. And while a part of her still revelled in the glorious happiness about what had happened the night before, another part was beginning to wonder of maybe it had been too soon, if she should not have tried to contain her desire for a bit longer.

 _It is too late now_ , she thought dejectedly as she glanced at Kíli who kept up a strict pace, his eyes fixed on the path before him as if he wanted to make sure that nothing whatsoever deterred him from his destination. All she could do was hope that the answers they might find at the palace would allow them to reflect on their actions with calm minds and equally calm hearts.

This time, when they entered the caverns that were home to Thranduil and his Woodelves, the red-haired elf-maid and the young dwarf caused much less of a spectacle than they had the last time they had come. The reason for this was simply that the halls were much less populated than they normally were and that there were only few to witness their arrival. Tauriel was puzzled by this circumstance for a moment before she remembered the reason for it.

The days since their arrival at Mirkwood had flown by fast, and she had not realised that they were already entering the phase of winter were her people celebrated the Feast of Erintion, a festival dedicated to music, song and dance. Straining her ears she could hear soft tunes echo down the intricate passageways of the palace while her mind instantly pictured the elaborately decorated halls in which the Elves would dance to them day and night for the duration of almost a week.

Next to Mereth Nuin Giliath this celebration of all things beautiful in life had always been Tauriel's favourite occasion, watching the dancers twirl in their colorful garments and listening to the sounds of all types of music echoing through the halls a pleasure unlike anything which the remainder of the year had to offer. The fact that song and dance were currently quite far removed from her list of priorities rendered her a little melancholic, but she refused to allow that feeling to hold any power over her. Instead she proceeded to lead Kíli away from the sounds of the feast, heading deeper and deeper into the caves.

The Old Healers preferred to carry out their studies in seclusion and had thus withdrawn from the more densely populated areas of the palace, to venture out only when they required a text that could only be found in one of the public libraries or when their help was absolutely essential in order to save another elf's life. Tauriel had never appreciated their passivity and their rather theoretical approach to the art of healing. If someone did possess the gift, she felt that they should apply it at every chance they had in order to help others. Be that as it may, she had come to ask for the help of those ancient, wise healers today, and she hoped with all that she had that they would be inclined to give it.

As they approached the remote halls where the oldest of the healers spent most of their time, they were approached by a young female apprentice of theirs. Her gentle face seemed familiar, but Tauriel could not remember her name or how she knew her. She seemed rather nervous, her fingers constantly fiddling around with the blue tunic that was traditionally worn by the healers in Thranduil's employment.

"Tauriel," she greeted her, conforming Tauriel's assumption that they had met before. "I was sent forth to meet you."

Tauriel inclined her head, thereby hiding her frown at the fact that nothing could ever happen in this palace without one of the king's many spies reporting it. She had not minded that so much in the past, but since her life had taken those new, increasingly complex turns, she was made uncomfortable by the feeling of watchful eyes hoping to uncover each and every of her secrets.

Clearly, word of their destination had traveled ahead of them, and so Tauriel decided not to waste any time with meaningless civilities. "We have come to speak to the healers personally. Would you take us in to them, please?"

The young she elf twitched with another bout of nervousness. She glanced at Kíli with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, her hands fidgeting with her dress once more. "If that is really what you want, I will do that," she said in reply to Tauriel's question. "Your companion will not be admitted inside I am afraid."

Tauriel frowned. She was not surprised that the young apprentice should be reluctant to bring her to her masters – the Old Healers did not like to be disturbed. That Kíli's presence would not be accepted by them, however, was news to her, for while they were rather reclusive, their thirst for knowledge usually won out over any reservations Elves might have against other races.

Before she had a chance to argue with the young healer, they were interrupted by another voice.

"It will be fine, do not worry." Tauriel almost laughed out loud at the fact that once again Elhadron appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He nodded at her before turning to Kíli. "Maybe you would like to accompany me to the festivities while Tauriel makes her inquiries? There is wine and an abundance of food and it is all in all much more entertaining than the sermons of the Old Healers."

Elhadron was smiling brightly when he made his proposition, but Tauriel thought she detected a certain tightness around his eyes. He appeared pressured, as if he had just been dealing with something else entirely – and not something pleasant – when he had received word of her and Kíli's arrival. She experienced a tiny twinge of guilt over the fact that once again her friend had had to abandon his usual business to come to her and Kíli's aid.

Kíli, meanwhile, did not attempt to hide the displeasure that this new turn of events was causing him. A deep frown creased his forehead, but before he could reject Elhadron's offer, Tauriel silenced him with her hand against his shoulder.

"Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all," she said, finding Kíli's gaze and holding it. _I will tell you everything that I learn, both good news and bad_ , she tried to tell him with her eyes. If there was one thing she was certain of, then it was that once the Old Healers had made up their mind, they would not be persuaded of anything else. If they wanted to speak to her alone, then alone she would have to come before them.

Kíli stared at her for a long time, but then he finally nodded. "Fine," he said. And then, turning to Elhadron, "show me then what Woodelves know about having a good time."

Elhadron smiled. "That is what I shall do."

Tauriel was able to tell from Kíli's stance that he was by no means happy with this situation. It was however a testimony of his trust in her that he agreed to go along with Elhadron's suggestion nonetheless. More than anything, this gave Tauriel hope that she had not damaged what had begun to blossom between them by keeping secrets from him to the extent that she had feared.

She would have wished to have a brief moment of privacy with Kíli before they parted ways, a chance to assure herself of his forgiveness and to promise him once more that all would be well. Standing there in the underground passageway with the curious eyes of the young healer and the watchful gaze of Elhadron resting on them, there was however no opportunity for such an exchange. And so they bid each other farewell with a brief nod on either side, the only sign that they were more than just two acquaintances saying goodbye the long look that they exchanged, their reluctance to let the other out of their sight probably obvious to even the most ignorant bystander.

Kíli was the first to break eye contact and Tauriel's gaze lingered on his retreating back while he followed Elhadron back the way they had come. She was interrupted in her worried thoughts by the voice of her Elven companion.

"I am so glad to meet you here," the young healer said, "for when I heard that you were a Captain in the Guard no longer, I feared that we might never cross paths again."

Tauriel turned to her, surprised. The young she-elf's face was flushed, and she did not quite meet her gaze. Before Tauriel could ask why it was so important to the girl to meet her, the healer spoke again, her voice trembling. "Lendaer always spoke so very highly of you. I hoped—ˮ her voice hitched on a small sob, "I had hoped that there was anything about him you could share with me, any story or memory that might help me remember him. That we might remember him together."

Tauriel's eyes widened. Lendaer. Of course – that was how she knew the young elf. Lendaer had been a young soldier serving under her command when she had still been a Captain. And the elf-maid before her was his betrothed, Nimbes. Or had been, if Tauriel interpreted her words correctly. Guilt washed over her. Lendaer had been young and inexperienced, and for a long time he had been her responsibility. A responsibility she had abandoned when she had left Thranduil's halls to go after Kíli. And now she was back here, in her homeland once more, and had not even spared a thought for those who had served under her once, had not even tried to find out if they had fought in the battle and if so, whether they had survived. For Lendaer, clearly, the latter was not the case.

Tauriel put her hand on Nimbes' shoulder, and tried her best to hide both her shock and her guilt. She felt great sympathy for the young woman and that she derserved to know the truth about how Tauriel had not been at her husband's side when he had fought his last battle. Now, however, was not the time for that, not with her own heart in such turmoil and her thoughts distracted by her worries over Kíli. "Lendaer was a good man, and so very brave," she said, gently urging Nimbes along into the direction of the Old Healer's chambers. "Walk with me to the healers and I will tell you about his first day as a cadet in my command."

As expected, the young healer was eager to accept her proposal and they set off together towards the original destination of Tauriel and Kíli's trip to the palace. To soothe her guilty conscience over stringing Nimbes along in this manner, Tauriel made a promise to try harder at some point in the very near future and to grant the grieving elf as much time talking about her deceased husband as she needed. But first she had a promise to Kíli that she needed to fulfill and for now she would need to focus on finding out as much as she could about what was or was not happening to him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Neither of Kíli's visits to the the Elvenking's halls – be it as a prisoner of of his own volition – had provided him with any sort of orientation when it came to the structure of the palace. Every time you finally reached the end of a path, the possibilities to continue seemed endless, and he never really knew if he was going deeper into the caverns or getting closer to the surface.

Now, as he followed Elhadron through the maze of stairwells, bridges and passageways, he tried to pay more attention to his surroundings than he had before. Tauriel was not with him, and even though his trust in Elhadron was growing with each of their encounters, he would have been a fool to neglect the potential for getting himself in trouble that his current situation held. It was hopeless, though.

Much like Erebor, Thranduil's halls were not merely a palace for the king to reside in, but an entire kingdom. Erebor, even though he had never set foot in it until quite recently, had seemed familiar from the moment he had first passed through its ruined gates and it had not taken him long to find his whereabouts in the underground halls and tunnels. Maybe it had been the stories he had grown up with, maybe it had been the fact that that he was, after all, an heir of Durin, but there had been a feeling of familiarity about the place, and something akin to an inherent understanding of its secrets. In the kingdom of the Woodelves such feelings were very far removed from his experience. He felt misplaced, disoriented, and as if he were constantly in danger of taking a false step.

A sudden rush of gratefulness washed over him for the fact that he and Tauriel had been allowed to spend their days in a place so very different from this, a place were they could both feel comfortable instead of feeling entirely out of place in the world of the other. The Swallow's Nest had become somewhat of a common ground for them and Kíli had soon begun – against his own principles – to feel that they had been given a chance to start over. Back at Dale he had already told Tauriel that there would be no future for them at Erebor and while he was wandering the halls of the Elvenking's palace he thought that had they been made to live here, they would have drifted further apart instead of closer together.

He forced himself to end his musings there before his thoughts could spiral into endless questions about where he and the fire-haired elf maid currently stood with one another. That topic was laced with so many insecurities, not even to speak of the warm, distracting feelings that continued to erupt inside of him whenever his mind replayed the events of the night before.

To prevent himself from actually falling off one of the high bridges as a consequence of his daydreams, Kíli turned his attention to Elhadron instead. For someone on their way to a celebration, he did look rather grim.

"I myself haven't exactly been great company for any sort of party lately," he addressed the elf, "but you look like you are headed to an execution."

Elhadron gave a surprised, slight smile before returning his gaze to the path ahead. "I apologise if I do not make for entertaining company today."

"Don't feel sorry on my behalf," Kíli returned. "I only agreed to come because Tauriel insisted."

This elicited a genuine smile from the dark-haired elf. "Yes, she can be quite stubborn." His face grew serious once more. "Despite how I might feel now, the festivities will in all likelihood provide some much needed distraction."

"From what, if I may ask?" Elhadron had always been refreshingly open with Kíli, and so he saw no reason why he should not inquire more thoroughly into the elf's business. And indeed Elhadron hesitated only briefly before continuing.

"As you will recall, I was leading a search for two young cadets when we last met."

"The ones you assumed were attacked by the spiders?"

Elhadron nodded gravely. "Yes, precisely. We were successful in our search – one of them was held captive by the nest that attacked you. We found her a mere couple of miles north of where you and Tauriel spent the night."

Memories of that particular night in the forest caused Kíli's ears to grow quite hot. Hoping that Elhadron had not noticed, he continued their conversation. "I suppose they were saving her for a later meal then?"

Elhadron frowned with disgust. "It seems likely. Physically she was unharmed..."

"But?" So far, this did not sound bad enough to explain the gloomy mood of the elf. There had to be more to the story.

Elhadron sighed. "As it turns out, the two cadets were more than just comrades. They were lovers."

"Oh," Kíli said. He let the information sink in for a moment. "I assume the blood Tauriel and I found belonged to the other of the two?"

Elhadron nodded gravely. "Indeed. It appears that Míthiel, whom we found in the forest, watched her mate be brutally murdered."

A sickening feeling spread through Kíli's stomach. Had they been less lucky, this same fate might have befallen him and Tauriel when they had been attacked. "The girl— how is she?" he asked.

Elhadron's lips formed a thin, straight line. "Not well, I am afraid. I have just returned from her quarters. I fear that she has begun to fade."

Kíli frowned, confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means that she will not recover," Elhadron replied, his eyes dark with sorrow. "Sometimes, when an elf loses their mate, he or she may become so lost in grief that they cease to be a part of this world, drifting more and more into the shadows with each day that passes."

That did not sound so very good indeed. "What about the healers Tauriel went to? Can't they do something?"

Elhadron shook his head. "No one can once the fading has begun." He sighed. "Which is why I believe finding distraction in the festivities might be a good thing. There is nothing that I can do for Míthiel."

The elf offered Kíli a small smile, which he forced himself to return. Inside of him, however, he felt frozen with fear. He had not been aware of this aspect of an elf's love, of this so-called fading. Was this what he had condemned Tauriel to when he had invited her into his bed? _If that is really to be her fate_ , a voice piped up inside his head, _then it has been decided long before last night_. In his heart, he knew this to be true, knew that what had happened between him and Tauriel the night before had merely been an expression of what had already been there all along. Still it troubled him that by giving up on his attempts to keep some distance between them, he might have endangered her heart even more than he had been dreading all along.

Elhadron appeared oblivious to the brooding thoughts of his dwarven companion and when they finally reached their destination, he turned towards him with an expectant glimmer in his eyes. "Welcome," he said as he led Kíli through a wide archway, "to the Feast if Erintion, our celebration of all music and beauty."

For an instant, all thought was wiped from Kíli's mind as he took in the view before him. They were standing at the entrance to a long, impossibly high-ceilinged hall. Along its right hand side ran a multitude of high windows and what appeared to be doorways leading onto small balconies. Each window and doorway was adorned with intricate carvings that resembled the ones back at Tuilimbar - only these were much grander, of course.

The Hall was filled with song and laughter, the Elves wearing garments more colourful than Kíli had ever seen during his previous visits to the palace. What drew his eye most though were neither the architecture of the hall nor its occupants, but the orbs of light that appeared to float above their heads, creating an atmosphere that was both mystical and enchanting. While he was still wondering whether those small orbs were created and held in the air by some kind of magic of whether there was maybe an entirely natural phenomenon behind the spectacle, Elhadron suddenly appeared at his side with two goblets of wine. Amidst the general bustle, Kíli had not even noticed his absence.

"You will enjoy this, but I advise that you do so with a certain amount of caution," the elf warned him with a slight wink, and after taking one sip from the proffered drink, Kíli could guess why.

The wine was as sweet as it was potent, and Kíli immediately felt his tense muscles begin to relax, a pleasant buzz filling his head that had previously been occupied with sinister thoughts. He smiled slightly and nodded at his companion, signalling that he would try to heed his advice.

Elhadron gestured for Kíli to follow him and he obliged, allowing the elf to lead him deeper into the hall. There were small alcoves in the wall to their left, and in each of it musicians or other performers showcased their talent. As Kíli and Elhadron moved through the crowd, Kíli felt the curious glances of the Woodelves – curious, but not hostile. This gave rise to another thought altogether.

"Your King will not be happy to see me here," he said to Elhadron when they stopped to listen to the performance of a female singer accompanied by a lute.

The corner of Elhadron's mouth lifted in a slight smile. "He probably would not, that is correct. However, the king only attends the official parts of Erintion. He does not enjoy partaking in the celebrations."

Kíli let his gaze swerve across the room, taking in the dancers that were moving without restraint, spurred on by the music and, obviously, a fair amount of wine. Everyone appeared to be in exceptionally high spirits. "Yes, I can see that Thranduil would find it difficult to let himself go like that," he smirked.

That comment was rewarded with a burst of laughter by Elhadron. "He would indeed. Come then, let me introduce you to the selection of food served at a feast such as this."

Given Kíli's knowledge of Elvish cooking, he was not overly enthusiastic at that prospect, but followed Elhadron nonetheless. He was surprised to find many things among the large variety of food that were quite to his liking. Ever since the quest for Erebor, food had become more of a means to survival than an enjoyment in itself and it felt nice to just sample the different tastes and textures for once. In general he was quite surprised how much he enjoyed the feast – it was in no way the uptight affair which he had expected and his mind was suspiciously willing to put all those other, darker things aside for just a little while. Surely, the wine was to blame for that.

Eventually though, he found himself growing tired of all that music and all those voices, the colours which the dancers among the Elves wore beginning to blur before his eyes. Elhadron appeared engaged in conversation with a small group of other Elves and so Kíli decided that no harm would be done if he snuck away for a moment in order to get some fresh air.

Through a pair of endlessly long, flowing white curtains, he exited the great hall and found himself, as expected, on a balcony of sorts. What he had not expected, however, was the view that offered itself to him.

Night had fallen, and even though he did not appear to be so very high up, it felt as if he were surrounded by stars, their silvery twinkle seeming so close as if he might almost reach out his hand and touch them. There was no logical explanation for this fact, for this was the same sky he had seen all of his life, had slept under so many times. But still it had never amazed him the way it did tonight and he understood now what Tauriel had meant when she had told him once that the light of the stars was anything but remote and cold.

As he remembered that conversation they had shared in the dungeons, a wave of longing washed over him. Not much time had passed since they had gone separate ways, but he missed her presence at his side as acutely as if days had passed. And while he stared at a sky full of stars, he admitted to himself that no matter how all this business with his newfound abilities might turn out, he had no strength left to keep her at a distance, to deny himself the thing that he wanted most in this world. He was tired of pushing her away time and again, hurting them both in the process.

 _Which is exactly what you have been doing all day_ , that always cynical voice inside his head commented. It was true – looking back now, he felt almost ashamed of how he had acted since her revelation this morning, not even a word said between them to acknowledge their closeness of the previous night. Too overwhelmed had he been by what Tauriel thought was happening to him to do what he had originally intended to do when he had left his bed to search for her. Which had been too take her into his arms once more and show her with both his body and his soul that the barriers he had erected between them had finally crumbled and would not be rebuild. Unless she wanted them to, that was.

That final notion had been sitting like a dead weight inside his stomach for the better part of the day. Everything else that had happened might have distracted him from it, but now, here, with only the stars to keep him company, he was beginning to feel its full impact once more. His bed had been empty when he had woken up in the morning, the mattress beside him disappointingly cold. Had it really been only her worry for him that had driven Tauriel from it or was there more to it?

Ever since the battle it had seemed his own reluctance that kept them apart, but now that his resolution to be nothing more than friends was dissolving more and more with each passing day, he was suddenly beginning to feel insecure and vulnerable. What if it had been too late? What if her feelings had changed or, worse, what if the night before had convinced her of what he had been trying so hard to convince the both of them of, namely that they should not be together?

Kíli shivered, the cold suddenly creeping into his limbs. He needed to make things right between them before it was too late, before he managed to lose her forever. As always, the question remained what was "right" when it came to the two of them? What his heart was telling him to do? Or his reason? Or should he listen to the things his upbringing had taught him?

He silently asked the stars for an answer. What they gave him, though, was not a simple answer, but the object of his musings instead. He barely flinched when Tauriel suddenly appeared at his side, even though his heart skipped more than a single beat.

She looked tired, but smiled at him nevertheless. "I already feared you were passed out drunk in some corner when I could not find you right away."

He chuckled. "Far from that. Although I must admit, that wine your people drink would certainly have the potential to achieve just that."

It was her turn to laugh. "There are many who will confirm that." She glanced around the balcony, obviously assuring herself that they were alone. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

Kíli hesitated. Should he reveal what it was that he had been thinking about without further delay? He decided against it, knowing that there were other matters they needed to discuss first. "I was merely enjoying a moment away from all the noise."

She nodded at that in apparent understanding, causing Kíli to wonder whether she usually took part in festivities as such. Somehow he imagined her rather taking an additional shift than singing and dancing with her kin. As she had done that night in the dungeons.

"You came back earlier than I expected," he remarked. He had no real concept of how much time had passed since they had parted ways, but it did not seem too long.

Tauriel evaded his gaze, causing Kíli to fear the worst. What had the healers told her? That he was some kind of monster, an abomination? Tauriel sighed. "If you are asking why my visit with the Old Healers was cut a little short, then I am afraid it is because they were not very helpful."

"Meaning?" Kíli frowned. Had they really come here in vain? Or was she hiding some terrible truth from him?

When she finally looked at him, though, he could see that her feelings of disappointment were genuine. "Maybe I should have known better," she said. "I knew their ways, after all."

Kíli frowned. "You think it was a mistake, speaking to them?"

Tauriel sighed. "No, not exactly. Only that we have gained nothing. Their reasons for agreeing to speak to me were far less noble than I had hoped."

"So you they were unable to tell you anything about what might be happening to me?"

"Unwilling rather than unable, I should say." Again, Tauriel sighed. "In essence they rejected the idea that you might really possess the gift of healing as too improbable to waste further thought on it. All they were interested in was getting their hands on any notes or recipes that Faerveren and Iondaer might have left behind. They never agreed with the ways of the Old Healers and were reluctant to share their knowledge with them. Now that they have passed away, the healers saw their chance to finally get what they were denied for so long."

Tauriel's mouth formed a hard line when she said those words. "I assume you did not grant them their wish?" Kíli found that he felt strangely protective of Iondaer's and Faerveren's possessions. He had not known them, but by now he felt as if he had, their letters and memories bringing him so close to them that he almost thought of them as family.

Tauriel gave a bitter laugh. "I did not." She briefly closed her eyes before looking at him. "I'm sorry. I might have ruined our one chance to extract any useful information from them. For I know that there must be _something_ they could say about the whole matter – if only they wanted to. Meldis promised to try and look into it, but she does not hold much influence and I do not believe that anything will come of it."

Kíli shook his head. "There is no need to apologise – I would not have expected you to act any differently." He sighed and leaned his head back to gaze at the stars once more. "I suppose that leaves us in more less the same place we started out from."

Tauriel stepped a little closer, and Kíli could not help but tear his eyes away from the starlight sky to look at her. She seemed worried. "And where is that, exactly?"

He was not sure if she referred to him and his newfound abilities or to what was between them. Neither was an easy topic and so he decided to work through them one after the other. "You told me this morning that you cannot imagine for the gift of healing to be a thing of darkness." He looked at his hands as if the lines on them held the answers to his many questions. "In my heart, I know this to be true," he continued. "And while the thought still unsettles me, I need to believe in it. I cannot add this to the burdens I carry – or to yours, for that matter."

Tauriel reached out then to take one of his hands in hers, gently tracing the lines and ridges on his palm. Kíli shivered, but not with displeasure. "You should not worry about me," she said, her voice very quiet.

His fingers closed around hers, holding onto her hand. "Of course I should," he said. "You are everything to me." Even after all the things they had been through, all the things they had done, his heart still raced with this admission.

Tauriel's eyes widened and Kíli thought he saw them glisten with unspilt tears. But then she blinked and their eye contact broke. "You mean I am all that you have left..."

She made to move away from him, but he was faster and gripped her hand more firmly, holding it against his chest. She was even closer now than she had been before and he reached up with his hand to cup her cheek. "No. I meant it just the way that I said it. You are everything to me. Everything. And I do not want to waste what is left of my life by denying this fact, and hurting both you and myself in the process."

For the longest of moments Tauriel simply stared at him, while his heart continued to hammer away in his chest. Finally her eyes softened and the light of the stars and the moon revealed a slight blush on her cheeks. "Then don't," she whispered breathlessly.

This Kíli did not need to be told twice. Taking the half step necessary to close the remaining gap between their bodies, he brought his lips to hers, his hand sliding from her cheek to cup the back of her neck instead. Their kiss was sweet and gentle and lacked some of the urgency and almost desperate desire which had characterised the ones they had shared before. For once neither of them feared that the other might pull away at any moment to rebuild the walls between them. For once they both felt safe in their affection for each other.

If there was a moment that could be conserved for all eternity, Kíli would have wanted this to be it. Tauriel's lips so soft against his own, her body moulding itself perfectly to his when he wrapped his arm around her narrow waist, allowing him to hold her in a way he had dreamt about ever since he had first laid eyes on her. Far too soon the moment was ended by the sound of shattering glass and some drunken giggling coming from just inside the hall.

They broke their kiss and smiled at each other a little self-consciously. Tauriel's face was still flushed and Kíli was relieved to find not a trace of regret or shame on it. "Sounds like we're missing all the fun," he remarked with a wink.

Tauriel chuckled. "Somehow I do not mind that one bit." She leaned her forehead against his and they just stood there for a while, enjoying this alcove of peace amongst all the turmoil.

"Would you like to dance?" Kíli eventually heard himself say. He had not even known that he wished for such a thing, but now that the thought had entered his head, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and move with her to the music that was floating outside from within the hall.

Tauriel giggled, surprising him with her sudden shyness. "What, here?"

"Can you think of a more beautiful place than out here, under the stars you love so dearly?"

He could see that she liked the idea, but still she hesitated. "I am a bit of a clumsy dancer, I am afraid."

Kíli found it hard to believe that she might be clumsy at anything, but chose not to tease her about it. "You are lucky then that the dwarves' dances require no particular skill. And besides, no one is watching."

She smiled and he felt her give into his request, her body growing less rigid in his arms, allowing him to guide her into the movements ment of one of the few slower dances Kíli knew. He was not the most accomplished dancer himself, but this was not about showing off his skills, and rather about feeling her respond to his touches and he revelled in the trust which she put in him by letting him take the lead. Together they simply swayed from side to side for a while, and when eventually he took her hands in his to spin her around and back again, she went willingly and smiled at him as they continued to turn first one way and then the other, their bodies coming together briefly only to drift apart again with the next set of steps. She laughed in breathless surprise when he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into the air as he turned once more more, holding her close as her lowered her back to the ground.

Her laugh made him smile in return and he pulled her against him, her cheek coming to rest against the top of his head as they went back to simply swaying from side to side in synchrony to the Elves' music. They stayed like that for a long time, even after the song ended and the musicians appeared to take a bit of a break. It felt good to pretend for a little while that they had not a care in the world and Kíli enjoyed every second of it. He could, however, pinpoint the exact moment when the wheels in Tauriel's head began to turn once more, her body growing more restless in his arms.

He pulled back and looked at her, smiling when she bit her lip in slight embarrassment. "What is it?"

She grinned a little self consciously. "I was just thinking..." She hesitated, but then appeared to make up her mind and continued. "I was thinking that – if you wanted to – I could help you learn how to use the gift of healing that sleeps in your veins. That maybe it would cease to feel so strange to you if you learned to control it."

Kíli did not reply right away, his gaze drifting away from hers to stare into nothingness. One of his first impulses, to be honest, was to laugh out loud, and not because her suggestion was in any way funny, but because the fact that they were seriously discussing his healing abilities seemed entirely ludicrous.

When he did not reply, Tauriel's gaze turned apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said, "I should not have brought it up. It was just a thought, and you don't have to—ˮ

He silenced her with a finger against her lips. "Do not apologise - I know you are trying to do the right thing. And so am I." He lowered his hand entwine his fingers with hers. He looked down at their joined hands, still thinking about what she had just proposed. "I will consider it, alright? I just— I feel that I still need to get used to the thought of it all before making any plans."

"Of course," she replied immediately. Raising their joined hands between their bodies, she pressed a sweet kiss to his knuckles. "Whatever you decide, you can be sure of my support."

"That is one of the very few things that I am still certain of," he said, smiling. "And do not think that I don't know how lucky I am to be able to say this."

She did not reply, but rested her forehead against his once more, and even though there was still no music to be heard from inside the hall, they continued their dance to which only the stars bore witness.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

It was late when they began their journey back to the Swallow's Nest. So late, in fact, that Tauriel could already feel the forest around them begin to stir, birds and beasts slowly waking as dawn drew nearer. After a few miles a slight drizzle had begun to descend upon them, the tiny droplets of icy rain feeling like pinpricks on Tauriel's face. She was not bothered by it at all, and neither was Kíli, it seemed, for he, too, showed no inclination to hurry. And so they took their time, strolling rather than hiking through the darkness.

The events of the day still caused Tauriel to feel a bit dizzy, beginning with her visit to the Old Healers and ending with Kíli's confession that he wanted her by his side as more than just a friend in need. What exactly that meant for their life together at Tuilimbar they had not discussed. For the moment though, Tauriel found that she did not particularly care about the specifics as long as she knew that they were both on the same page and willing to give what had grown between them a chance.

For the remainder of their evening and during their journey homeward, they had continued to exchange tentative, gentle touches, a brush of fingers against one another here, a hand against the small of her back there, and each of those touches had caused Tauriel's heart to sing with joy. It had all been very innocent and for once the desperate yearning that they had both succumbed to more than once over the past few days seemed to give them a rest and allow them to simply enjoy being around one another.

Still, a they drew ever closer to their destination in the woods, Tauriel found herself wondering what the rest of the night - or morning, rather - would bring. The thought of returning to the complete privacy of the house caused a nervous flutter to erupt in her stomach which was accompanied by a pleasurable tingling in various parts of her body. Given their hasty departure that morning, she expected to find the place in a bit of a disheveled state, with Kíli's bed still showing clear evidence of the things that had happened there the night before. The thought of rumpled sheets and dented pillows made it hard to ignore desire beginning to stir inside of her once more and for a moment all she could think about was that she wanted to be with Kíli, in his bed, in his arms.

And while a part of her insisted that she should not have these thoughts, that for the time being they should simply enjoy what they had, another part of her asked if it was really so wrong wanting to repeat their actions from the night before. She was his in every sense of the word and had been long before she had climbed into his bed. And judging by the things he had said to her tonight, the same was true for him. What should stop them, then, from giving themselves to one another without reservations? Why hold back?

Glancing at Kíli out of the corner of her eye, she wondered if he was having similar thoughts as they drew ever closer to the Swallow's Nest. And indeed she thought that she saw a glint in his eyes which seemed to suggest just that, which in turn caused her throat to feel quite dry and her heart to give an excited little jolt.

Reason told her that they should both get some rest after spending a good portion of the previous two nights awake, but as Kíli reached for her hand to help her climb over a particularly large and slippery set of tree roots, the only thought on her mind was to get him into the house that was just starting to become visible through the trees and out of his clothes. She blushed at the boldness of her own mind, but Kíli's small, knowing smile when he witnessed the reddening of her cheeks and the glimmer in his dark eyes made her want him all the more.

The blackness of the night was fading as they climbed the steps leading up to where the house was nestled among the trees. The air was still humid and rather cold, but Tauriel could not have felt warmer had she been sitting in front of an open fire. Again, Kíli's hand was on the small of her back as they approached the house, and she leaned into his touch, her heart rejoicing over how easy it suddenly seemed to be so affectionate with each other.

Her heart beat so loudly in her chest that she half expected Kíli to hear it as they crossed the threshold and left the night and its many small sounds behind them. Tuilimbar was silent around them after the door fell shut and Tauriel found herself reluctant to speak, as if her voice might disturb the house in its rest. Kíli, too, made no move to speak and Tauriel wondered if she was really bold enough to put the thoughts that had accompanied her on their way here into actions.

Under the skylight which welcomed them upon their entry they stood frozen to the spot, both feeling a little forlorn in the silent darkness. Not for the first time Tauriel felt that they tethered on the edge of crossing a boundary that would change their shared life profoundly. A single night together was one thing, moments of passion that might be chalked up to the tension that had been building between them for so long and the fact that she had almost died the day before. If one night became two, however, it would be a conscious decision made by either of them, a commitment that was so powerful in its impact that the mere thought of it caused a whole volcano of emotions to erupt inside Tauriel's chest.

When Kíli moved towards her, her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes welled up with tears of joy over the fact that he did not appear to feel like he needed to hold himself back with her and that he would be the one to take the first step this time. Before he actually reached her, however, her hand shot up and she stopped him in his tracks with her palm against his chest. She could feel his quickened heartbeat against her hand. Confused by her actions he made to speak, but she silenced him with a shake of her head while she furrowed her brow in concentration, straining her sensitive ears.

 _There_. She was not even sure if it had been a sound that she had picked up or rather a general feeling that had come over her, but she knew one thing for certain: They were not alone.

Who on earth would come into this remote home of theirs, at this time of night? The presence in the house felt familiar and yet oddly out of place. Tauriel's frown deepened as she tried to identify their nocturnal visitor. She was roused from her stupor when Kíli wrapped his fingers around her hand that still rested against his chest.

"There is someone in the house," she finally said in reply to the unspoken question in his eyes, keeping her voice level in order not to cause him too much alarm. Whoever it was that had come to them, she did not believe that they posed a threat to them, at least not an immediate, physical one.

Kíli would not have been the warrior that he was, of course, if he had not reacted to her words immediately regardless of her neutral, quiet tone. A blade was in his hands in no time and Tauriel had to practically leap forward in order to stop him from tearing into the back of the house to strike down whoever was waiting for them there.

"Don't," she said, her hand on his upper arm in an effort to hold him back. "I do not sense any danger. It might be a visitor rather than an intruder."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Someone broke into our home. Forgive me if that does not exactly inspire a warm welcome."

She smiled an affectionate smile. "Still, I would rather give them a chance to explain before letting you chase them into the woods." Her hand slid down his arm and she gently grasped his wrist, causing him to lower his sword. "Let me have a look first, please?"

He looked at her in slight exasperation, but then sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I'm keeping the sword right at hand."

She nodded gratefully, touched by his protectiveness. "It can never hurt to be a little cautious."

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she turned to proceed into the house, and quickly hid her smile when she saw him follow her with a grim expression on his face, his hands still firmly grasping the hilt of his sword. Together they silently walked past dark, empty rooms until they reached the door to the study. The door was half shut and Tauriel thought she saw the flicker of candlelight through the crack which remained. She sent Kíli another meaningful look, asking him to stay calm, before putting her hand against the door. Slowly, she pushed it open.

The room was mostly dark except for the light radiating from a single candle which had been placed in one corner of the large oaken desk at the far side of the room. In the absence of proper lighting it took Tauriel a few seconds to locate the figure standing with their back to them, looking out of the same window from which Kíli and Tauriel had watched the first snow flakes of the year.

Tauriel's stomach was in knots when she recognised their nightly visitor. The familiarity of the presence in the house had caused her to suspect it of course, but still she had not quite thought it possible for he was supposed to far, far away from this place.

"Hîr nín, Legolas," she whispered, at a complete loss as to how to greet her prince. They had parted on uncertain terms, his heart wounded by her refusal to stop him from leaving and her own heart utterly shattered by her grief for another - who was, to make matters more complicated than they already were, standing right behind her.

Under those circumstances she deemed it wiser to adhere to a more formal greeting, testing the waters of their strained friendship before anything else was said. The words tasted stale on her tongue though, despite the fact that she had uttered them countless of times before. They were stiff, formal, and could by no means do justice to the memories she and Legolas shared nor the things they knew about each other. Still, old habits caused them to spill from her lips effortlessly and they hung there in the semidarkness while her heart beat fast from the uncertainty of what would happen next.

If she had feared a certain amount of hostility from her old friend, she need not have worried. Legolas graced her with one of his rare smiles. "Tauriel. It is good to see you so well."

His smile was genuine, but Tauriel knew him well enough to detect a residue of hurt in his eyes, a slight feeling of betrayal caused by the fact that he had left believing her doomed to eternal sorrow and mourning only to find her here now, the happy glow which the past hours had left on her face only just beginning to fade.

"And you, too," she returned, lowering her head, hiding her face. She knew she shouldn't, but still she could not help and feel something akin to shame at the fact that she was not the picture of misery Legolas might have expected to find - not by far. He had run away from the prospect of being faced with her grief for all eternity and now he had returned to his home only to realize that not only had she moved on with her life but had even reshaped it entirely, going down paths she had never dared go down before.

She felt her prince's eyes rest on her, but kept her head down. It angered her that he was able to make her feel this way, but she was determined not to show him that. She sensed it when he finally gave up and let his gaze wander to the third person in the room instead. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kíli strand up straight under Legolas' scrutiny - a reflex which she understood all to well, for it would overcome her frequently in the presence of Thranduil's son. "I am not sure if I was more surprised to hear that you lived," Legolas addressed the young dwarf, "or that you called Mirkwood your home nowadays - I did not think you particularly enjoyed your first visit to our kingdom."

Tauriel was unable to tell if the words were meant to tease or to provoke - a little bit of both, probably. Kíli's answering smile was colder than she was used to from him and have her reason to believe that he, too, recognised the layered purpose of Legolas' comment. "What can I say," he drawled, "I had such lovely company then that I could not resist coming back for _more_."

The way he emphasised that last word caused heat to shoot into various parts of Tauriel's body. Hoping that the poor lighting would hide the blush on her face, she intervened before things between the two males could get out of hand. "If I remember correctly," she said to Legolas, "Kíli here is not the only one who did not plan on returning to the forest."

A twitch in Legolas' jaw told her that she had struck a nerve. "It is true that I had not planned on coming back so soon. And yet, when word reached me that things were not as I thought I had left them I set out back East."

Tauriel could not hold his gaze. He had come back for her, then. While a part of her basked in the warmth that the return of her oldest friend sent through her, she still wished that he hadn't. The reasons why she might have wanted him to return and those that had motivated him to do so in the end were quite far apart. Then again, Legolas had already hinted that he had known what he would find upon his return - so maybe he was grudgingly beginning to accept that her life had moved in an entirely different direction than one might have expected - and that her heart belonged to another.

"When did you arrive?" she asked, hoping to steer their conversation into more neutral waters.

"Only yesterday. We just missed each other in my father's halls - had I known though that you would stay for Erintion, I would have met you there instead of coming out here."

His gaze travelled across the room and Tauriel could see that he was not entirely comfortable being here. How could he have been, seeing that he had surprised her in the home she shared with the one she had chosen over him. And indeed, Tauriel herself could not help but wish as well that they had met back at the palace. For a few tormented seconds, she wondered how thorough a look Legolas had had through the house - had he seen those rumpled sheets she had thought about on their way here? And if he had, what conclusions had he drawn?

She chastised herself. If he had drawn any conclusions then they would be the correct ones - and she had nothing to be ashamed of in that regard. Either way, she could not exactly imagine Legolas combing through the house, peering behind closed doors.

"I am sorry you came all the way out here only to find the house empty," she said, pushing away those thoughts about what Legolas knew or didn't know. "You could have sent for me in the morning. I would have come." For some reason she felt the need to convince him that, despite everything, he was still her prince and, more importantly, her friend. That, even if her heart belonged to Kíli, she was still loyal to him.

"I know," Legolas returned, his eyes softening. He ran a hand across his brow, as if to wipe away feelings of tenderness threatening to overcome him. When he spoke again his voice was all business. "I came directly because I bring word from my father - a message."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tauriel saw Kíli shift his position. A glance in his direction sufficed to convince herself that he was quite uncomfortable with the whole situation - with Legolas being here, in this sanctuary of theirs, and with the tension between herself and the elf prince that would have been hard to miss for anyone. It pained her to put Kíli in this position, but she could hardly have asked Legolas to leave, could she?

Kíli caught her gaze and frowned. "I should leave you to it then," he said, even though it was clear that the prospect of leaving her alone with Legolas was not exactly improving his mood.

Tauriel wondered if she should stop him from leaving, if letting him go now might leave him with the wrong impression that she was choosing Legolas' company over his. In the end it was however not her own voice which stopped Kíli in his tracks but that of the elf prince.

"Wait," Legolas said, surprising both Tauriel and Kíli himself. "The message I bear concerns you both. You should stay to hear what I have to say."

Two pairs of eyes turned towards him, both surprised and, mostly in Kíli's case, more than a little sceptical. "What does the King have to say to us then?" Tauriel asked, praying that Thranduil was not ordering them back to his court permanently or something similarly harmful to the life they had established for themselves.

Legolas shot a glance at Kíli, his expression unreadable, before settling his gaze on Tauriel. "I know why you came to the palace yesterday," he admitted. "And so does my father."

Tauriel exhaled, briefly closing her eyes. She could not say that she was surprised - information travelled fast inside Thranduil's halls, with all communication lines leading back to the King eventually. She had known that bringing the issue of Kíli's abilities to the attention of the Old Healers might mean that Thranduil would hear of it in time, but still she had hoped that the matter would be regarded as too insignificant to deserve much attention. And from the way that the healers had treated her query, she had assumed that just that was the case. Clearly, however, she had been mistaken.

Kíli had stepped up next to her, his gaze fixed on Legolas. "And what does Thranduil have to say about all of it?" he asked, his voice terse.

Tauriel sighed inwardly. Of course the matter had to be brought back upon the table when Kíli had just been ready to let it go for the time being and might have eventually begun to embrace the changes in him. Her visit to the Old Healers - while not particularly informative - had by no means weakened her opinion that the gift of healing could never be associated with anything dark or dangerous in a person. If anything, the more helpful among the healers had confirmed her view that healers drew their power from the world they lived in, and so those powers could in no way be harmful to anyone or anything.

Legolas looked at Kíli long and hard, probably trying to make sense of both the hostility and fear that were evident in the young dwarf's stance. "If you are asking what his explanation is for what might or might not be happening to you, then I am afraid I must disappoint you. It is not the king's habit to explain himself." The sharpness of his tone made Tauriel look at him and she wondered how the reunion of father and son had played out. From Legolas' face when he spoke of his father, she assumed that it had not been an overly warm welcome which Thranduil had extended to his only son, stubborn and proud as he was.

"And yet you said he sent you here with a message," Tauriel reminded him. This was not about Legolas and Thranduil. It was about Kíli and, consequently, also about herself.

Legolas' expression lost some but not all of its anger. "He suggests for you to undertake a journey to Lothlórien. You might find the answers you are looking for there."

"Lothlórien?" Surprise did not even cover Tauriel's reaction to her King's indirect command. "What wound Galadriel or her people know that ours don't?"

Legolas turned towards her. "I cannot answer that. I do know that Galadriel's powers are said to exceed those of most of our race-"

"It is a ploy," Kíli interrupted the blonde elf. He angled his body towards her but kept his narrowed eyes on Legolas as he continued. "It's obvious that Thranduil wants to remove us further from his line of sight. Clearly the Swallow's Nest is not as remote as he would like for it to be."

Frowning, Tauriel thought this over for a moment. Kíli did have a point... She raised her eyes to Legolas, her questions written all over her face.

Legolas averted his gaze. "One might be under that impression, yes. And yet, I believe that my father genuinely wants you to find out whatever truth there is about the matter." His gaze sought Tauriel's once more. "He seemed worried."

Worried about what, she wondered. About Kíli? That she found somewhat hard to believe. However, if he knew about hers and Kíli's visit to the palace then he was probably also aware of the injury she had suffered. Maybe he merely wanted to give her another task, one where she did not need to put her safety at risk. The thought warmed a remote spot in her heart, even though the measure of sending them on a mysterious mission to the far-away lands of Lothlórien seemed a little extreme.

"What do you think about this plan?" she asked Legolas.

His brow was furrowed when, after a pause, he replied. "I think you should go."

It was obvious that he did not want to be making this suggestion, that sending her and Kíli on this journey together was more or less the opposite of what he wanted to happen. That he advised in favour of it nevertheless was what convinced Tauriel more than anything else that it was the right thing to do.

She turned to look at Kíli, who raised his eyebrows at her. "We should at least consider it," she said.

He held her gaze for a good long while before he heaved a small sigh, the disappointment she herself experienced at another interruption of what might have been quiet times for them evident on his face as well. "I suppose we should, shouldn't we." He glanced at Legolas and then back at her. "Let's discuss the details later, alright? I will try to get some rest now."

Tauriel swallowed against a lump in her throat. It was clear that he was trying to give her and her oldest friend some space, so that they might resolve some of the issues between them. It was also obvious that a part of him wished she might reject his offer and, truth be told, she felt the same in many respects. However, she knew that she should not let this opportunity to speak with Legolas and clear the air between them pass her by, and so all she could do was nod in reply to Kíli's announcement, her heart more than a little heavy. This was not how she had pictured their return to the Swallow's Nest during their journey here.

Kíli looked at her for another long moment, hoping maybe that the words he longed for would make it past her lips. They didn't and so all that was left for him was to follow through with his words and head for the door.

Tauriel was suddenly reminded quite painfully of their parting on the shores of Lake Esgaroth. With Legolas standing right behind her, staring holes into her back, she had been too much of a coward then to tell Kíli the things her heart wanted her to say and had he not turned back at the last moment, their parting would have left a much bitterer taste on her tongue.

As Kíli slipped out into the hallway now, she realised that this time she would need to be the brave one and that letting him go without showing him that when it came to the matter of her heart Legolas was no competition for him, she would come to regret it later. Also, she realised, it did not matter to her anymore what Legolas thought of her.

Turning to her old friend, she cast him an apologetic smile. "I will be right with you. I just need a moment."

Legolas narrowed his eyes, but he nodded. It was obvious to him, of course, what this was about.

Quickly Tauriel slipped through the door of the study and hurried to catch up with Kíli. She did when he was just about to enter his room.

"Wait." With her hand on his shoulder she forced him to turn around. Standing so very close to him now, she had suddenly no idea what she had been meaning to tell him. And so she did the first thing that came to her mind and leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss.

He seemed surprised at first, but then his arms went around her waist and he pulled her against him more firmly, deepening the kiss. It only lasted for a few moments, but sufficed to leave them both quite breathless.

Tauriel's smile as she leaned her forehead against his carried some of her regret about not being able to follow him into his bed - at least not right away. "Is it alright for me to join you, later?" she asked, hear heart hammering in her chest at the boldness of her request.

Kíli leaned his head back and captured her lips in another, softer kiss. "More than alright, I should say." Tauriel was relieved to see that the darkness she had seen in his eyes just moments ago had lifted considerably. He still looked weary, though.

"Try to get some sleep then. I will be with you when you wake up," she promised.

Kíli nodded with a small smile and released her from his embrace. She instantly mourned the loss of his body against hers, but knew that if she did not leave now, she never would. And so she let him cross the threshold to his chamber alone and, with a last wistful glance over her shoulder, turned to retrace her steps to the study. It won't be long, she reminded herself.

 _To be continued..._

 _A/N: Don't worry, I will not be turning this into a love triangle. I just missed Legolas, so I brought him back. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

When Tauriel returned to the study she found it empty. Her heart sank. There was no doubt in her mind that going after Kíli had been the right thing to do, but had this decision really cost her what might have been her last chance to repair her friendship with Legolas?

Before she had time to sort through her emotions - sadness, melancholy, regret, and also a fair amount of anger - she caught sight of Legolas's geen travelling coat draped across the back of an armchair and his bow leaning against the wall adjacent to the fireplace. She exhaled. He hadn't left. Not yet.

After having made her way through the house, looking for the prince, she finally located him in the small garden attached to the back of Tuilimbar when she looked out of the large kitchen window. She frowned. Had he fled the house because the thought of her and Kíli exchanging gestures of tenderness had made him uncomfortable?

Whatever it was that had caused the blonde elf to be even gloomier than usual, she supposed that a cup of tea might at least stand a chance of lifting his spirits. She took her time preparing the brew, knowing that her old friend would have become aware of her presence by now.

When she finally sat down on an ancient stone bench next to Legolas in the grey light of impending dawn and offered a steaming mug to him, he accepted it with a small smile.

"I am sorry," he said, "for making you come out here. It's just... I cannot quite stand to be in that house."

His words felt like a heavy stone inside of Tauriel's stomach. That Legolas would not rejoice over the fact that she and Kíli had gotten much closer over the past few weeks did not come as a surprise, but that he seemed to be repelled by what had grown between them to the extent that he would seek physical distance saddened and worried her. Was this type of reaction which she and Kíli would need to expect from the people around them when they found out what they truly were to each other?

She did not know how to respond to Legolas' admission. "I am sorry," she finally said, "for making you feel this way. However that is all that I have to be sorry for. I have no regrets."

Beside her, Legolas stared off into the distance, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. Finally, his lips twisted in a wry smile. "That makes my question whether the dwarf is making you happy superfluous then, I suppose." When Tauriel looked at him in surprise, he added, "I was not referring to whatever is between you when I said that I was uncomfortable in that house. It is not its present which drove me out here, but its past."

In her confusion over his words Tauriel all but forgot to feel a little silly at the fact that she had become rather defensive when clearly Legolas had never meant to attack her in the first place. Legolas was not a healer and she knew of no other connection between him and either Faerveren or Iondaer. "I had not known that you had ever set foot in the house before," she said.

Legolas was silent for a long while. When he spoke again, his eyes were haunted by shadows of a past so distant that Tauriel found it hard to grasp. "I barely remember it," he said, "for I was very young. My mother drew her last breath here."

Now Tauriel was truly taken aback. "I don't understand. You told me she had died in Gundabad."

Legolas was looking at the mug in his hands when he replied. "In many ways she did, yes. There was scarcely more than a spark of life left in her when my father brought her here - he must have known that there was not much to be done, but seeing that desperation sometimes makes us cling to even the most unlikely of chances, he hoped that Iondaer might find a way that his entire staff of healers at the palace would not."

Tauriel was silent while her mind tried to catch up with this new piece of information she had just received. "She- Your mother -she died here? At Tuilimbar?" she finally managed to say.

Legolas exhaled. "She did, yes. She suffered a great deal before she did and even though Iondaer tried to make her passing as easy as possible, being here is very painful."

"It must be," Tauriel returned, sympathy for her friend's agony almost causing her voice to break. If there was one thing she could relate to then it was the pain one experienced over losing a parent.

"The worst thing," Legolas continued, "is that aside from her final days here at Tuilimbar, I barely remember anything about her at all."

Reacting to a sudden impulse, Tauriel reached out and covered Legolas' hand with her own. "I know. All I seem to remember about my mother and father ist how they died - no matter how hard I try."

Legolas was silent for some time while he stared at their joined hands. Eventually he gave her fingers a brief, affectionate squeeze before putting her hand back into her lap. "Despite it all, I do not regret having come here today."

His smile was a little hesitant, as if he feared that she might not feel the same about his visit. "Neither do I," Tauriel quickly assured him, confident now that he would take her words the right way. Miraculous as it was, despite everything that had happened in the months past, their friendship appeared to have endured it all. That thought, while highly comforting to Tauriel in those confusing times, was however quickly overshadowed by another. "I am surprised," she said with a frown, "that given the circumstances you have just revealed, your father would send you out here. Or, as a matter of fact, that Tuilimbar was not closed up and abandoned by his order after what happened here."

Again, Legolas stared off into the distance for a while before answering. "I believe he wants me to remember that the forest is where I belong - he knows I want to leave again and is trying to anchor me to it with all his power. Even if that means causing me pain." He lowered his head, hiding whatever emotions his father's actions might be stirring in him. "As for Tuilimbar - I do not think my father ever viewed it in the same manner that I do. Iondaer was willing to try what all other healers back at the palace were too scared to do for fear of being blamed for their queen's death. Even in his grief, Thranduil appreciated such courage and as far as I can tell gave Iondaer free reign in his often rather queer ways. Which included living out here on his own and later with his wife."

Tauriel took a moment to consider this. When she had been younger and had not yet understood the way in which Thranduil ruled his people, she had never questioned how it was that Iondaer and Faerveren were living apart from anyone else and at some distance from the palace. Lately, though, both the documents she had inherited from Faerveren and her conversations with Kíli had caused her to wonder why Thranduil would have permitted such a thing. What Legolas had just told her explained a lot, even if not everything, about the relationship between Iondaer and the king.

"When you speak of Iondaer and his 'queer' ways," she asked Legolas, "what do you mean? Do you know anything of his more distant past?" She simply could not resist the opportunity to ask these questions and hoped that Legolas would forgive her for swerving from his own history to that of the deceased healer.

As it was, Legolas almost appeared grateful for the change of topic. He chuckled. "I merely meant what was fairly obvious. His life as a hermit and his not always entirely sociable ways with others. His unconventional methods. And the way he never appeared to be afraid of anything. Of his personal history, however, I know scarcely anything I am afraid."

Tauriel nodded, trying not to let her disappointment show. In all the turmoil of the past few days she had all but forgotten about the chest full of letters in the study and the questions they had left her with. Now that the topic had come up, however, the need to find out more about the elusive Iondaer and the love story between him and Faerveren burned inside of her once more.

She was torn out of her thoughts when Legolas set his empty mug aside. "I should prepare for my return to the palace," he said, even though he did not sound particularly fond of that prospect.

Tauriel opened her mouth, the impulse to ask him to stay and spend more time with her ingrained into her by old habit. Then she remembered that they were not the same they had once been - they hadn't been for quite a while, if she was honest. Their friendship might still be what it once was, but some of the closeness she had felt with Legolas for the better part of her life was gone, and she knew it would never return. And, more than that, she actually had a life now that she longed to get back to once Legolas left. That and a very handsome dwarf waiting for you in his bed, a devious voice inside her head commented.

She hoped that the strands of hair falling into her face as she inclined her head in acceptance of Legolas statement would suffice to hide the blush that had crept into her cheeks at that last thought of hers. When she dared to glance up at the Elven prince, a twitch in his jaw told her that he was in all likelihood quite aware of what was going through her head. Well, it couldn't be helped now.

"I will stay in my father's halls for at least a little while longer," Legolas said, breaking the slightly embarrassed silence between them. "I hope we will meet again during that time."

Tauriel answering smile was genuine. "I am sure we shall. If Kíli and I do indeed travel to Lothlorien it will still be a little while before we set out - I do not mind snow, but traveling would be easier without it."

The eagerness of Legolas responding nod told her that he really longed to spend more time with her now that they were somewhat reconciled and her heart warmed for her oldest friend. "You know where to find me," he said with a gentle smile.

"For now I do, yes," Tauriel returned. "Until then, farewell."

"Farewell." Legolas paused as he passed her by to briefly touch her shoulder before disappearing into the house to retrieve his belongings.

Tauriel exhaled slowly, her breath forming a small white cloud in the cold morning air. This meeting had gone much better than she might have expected - still, she was somewhat relieved that it was over. Many issues between her and Legolas had remained untouched by their conversation and she suspected that they would continue to be in whatever future their friendship had. And while she would always be loyal to him and try her best to be as good a friend to him as she could be, the knowledge of what they didn't say to each other would hover over their heads like a dark cloud threatening to spill its contents over their heads if ever one of them should take a false step.

Tauriel stayed in the small garden for just a little while longer while the day continued to grow brighter still. Then, when she could be sure that Legolas had left Tuilimbar and was well on his way to his father's halls, she rose from her seat and returned to the welcoming silence and warmth of the house.

She took her time tending to the fires in the study and in the kitchen, making sure that the house would stay warm and comfortable for the remainder of the day. She even checked their supplies, calculating in her head how long it would be until they would need to restock on the most important items. When she was done she stood at the workbench in the kitchen for a moment, drumming her fingers against the dark wood.

"This is silly," she finally said out loud, turning to glance over her shoulder into the general direction of Kíli's chamber. It was indeed silly to be stalling like this, yes, and yet she could not deny the nervousness that was spreading through her, causing her fingertips to tingle and her stomach to be assaulted by a whole swarm of butterflies that was making her slightly nauseous.

Careful not to make any noise she made her way to Kíli's room. The door was closed and for a moment she simply put her hand against it, frozen still in her own insecurity over how to proceed. She had promised him that she would come and, truly, there was nothing she wanted more than to be on the other side of that door, in the arms that made her feel so safe, so desired, so loved. And yet here she was,holding herself back once again. Her breath trembled as she slowly exhaled, trying to find her courage.

It might have taken her seconds or even minutes, but eventually she was brave enough to reach for the handle and she slowly opened the door, hoping that it would not betray her with a loud creak or something of that sort. The door swung open in complete silence and she quickly stepped inside, closing it behind her to shut out the sunlight that had entered with her. Seeing that Elves rarely needed to sleep for any extended period of time, the windows at Tuilimbar were not equipped with blinds. Today, Kíli appeared to have resolved the issue of the bright light of day streaming into his room by hanging a sheet in front of the single window. There was still a fair amount of light in the room, but it was dim enough to allow a tired soul to rest comfortably.

Kíli was fast asleep in his bed. Tauriel could not have explained why exactly, but the fact that he had scooted over to the far side of his narrow cot, leaving plenty of room for her to join him, touched a spot deep inside of her and filled her with that special warmth that was reserved only for him. Her hesitation all but erased by the image she was presented with, Tauriel quickly stepped out of her boots and silently removed the outer layer of her clothing. Wearing nothing but her leggings and a sleeveless tunic, she climbed into the small bed, careful not to wake the sleeping dwarf.

Kíli did not move a single muscle as she laid down, his breathing slow and even. As she lifted the edge of the blanket to slip underneath, however, his left arm suddenly slid around her and he pulled her firmly against him as he rolled onto his back, causing her to end up curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. Her heart beating fast, Tauriel waited for any other actions to follow this surprising move, but his breathing evened out once more and she allowed herself to simply relax against him and revel in the warmth of his embrace.

The morning had been rather damp and cold, but she had not minded that during the time she had sat outside with Legolas. Now that she was allowed to soak up Kíli's heat, however, she became aware of how chilled her body was, her skin cool against that of the dwarf beside her.

Quickly she found herself being lulled into a sleep-like state both by the warmth of Kíli's embrace and the regular sound of his breathing. The past few days had been eventful to the point of complete exhaustion and for once Tauriel had no trouble letting go of the thoughts that always kept her busy and let her mind drift.

Was it minutes that she spent in Kíli's arms in this way or hours? It had felt like minutes, and the most precious ones at at, but when she opened her eyes again she could tell from the light entering the room that the day had progressed quite a bit in the meantime. When she lifted her head off of Kíli's chest to gather her bearings, she was surprised to find him awake, his soft brown eyes watching her intently.

"You are awake," she said, superfluously stating the obvious. For some reason she felt vulnerable being the one to come to her senses last, when unusually it was the other way around with them.

"I just woke up," Kíli replied, as if he sensed her sudden insecurity. "It must be past noon already."

Tauriel smiled and inclined her head. "I believe it is. But it doesn't matter, does it?"

Kíli's own smile widened. "No. I've got nowhere else to be."

For a second his eyes drifted from her eyes to her lips and suddenly Tauriel was very aware of how his arm was still looped around her waist, holding her close to him. Her heart was in her throat when she whispered, "And I am so glad that you don't."

All she was aware of after that was Kíli's hand at the back of her neck, pulling her down towards him to claim her lips in a deep kiss. Gently his lips parted hers and she sighed softly when his tongue darted forward to sample a taste of her.

She kissed him back with similar vigour and before she knew it she was practically lying on top of him, one of his hands at the small of her back pressing her firmly against himself. Parting her legs she pushed herself upright, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment when the friction caused by the fact that she was now straddling him sent tiny sparks of pleasure through her body.

Kíli drew a shuddering breath and arched his back in response to their new position. Tauriel could not suppress a satisfied grin at the fact the she held the power to make him feel this way. Her smile was replaced by a surprised gasp when Kíli suddenly grasped her waist and reversed their positions, miraculously managing not to fall off the narrow bed in the process. Now lying on top of her, he wasted no time before lowering his lips to the side of her neck, kissing the skin which her rather low-cut tunic left exposed.

Tauriel giggled when his beard scratched and tickled her sensitive skin, which caused Kíli to pull back and look her in the face, his expression a mixture of slight amusement and heartbreaking tenderness. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and Tauriel could not resist leaning into his touch, placing a soft kiss into his palm. Kíli's eyes lost some of their mirth, the emotions they displayed instead raw and vulnerable.

"You look at me as if you feared that I might disappear any second," Tauriel said, the lump that had formed in her throat at the look in Kíli's eyes making her voice slightly raspy.

"Maybe I do," came Kíli's reply, his voice so low that Tauriel had to struggle to make out his words.

Tauriel did not have to ask what he was talking about. She had tried her best to make him understand her need to speak alone with Legolas that morning and for the most part she had succeeded. There was still a part of him, though, that was hurting, a part that was scared of losing her to her own past. The Tauriel from a couple of months ago would not have understood this kind of insecurity, but now that she had come to know how it felt to truly lose your heart to another person, she did. Also she was beginning to realize how intimidating the fact that she had known Legolas for centuries - centuries during which Kíli had not even been alive yet - had to be.

"I am not going anywhere," she said, reaching up to cradle his face in both of her palms. "Unless it is with you at my side. You are everything to me."

When she repeated those same words he had said to her the night before, Kíli briefly closed his eyes, letting go of a breath he appeared to have been holding. When he opened his eyes again, some of that insecurity from before appeared to have gone. Still, she felt guilty for having made him feel this way.

Instinctively she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, burying her face against his neck. It took a second or two, but then she finally felt some of the tension leave his body and he, too, held her to himself, their embrace offering them both comfort and assurance.

He pulled away eventually and ran a finger down the side of her face, his smile gentle.

Pushing herself off the mattress, Tauriel pressed a kiss to his lips. "Do you want to get up and have some breakfast?" She asked, even though every fibre of her being protested at the prospect of getting out of bed.

Kíli's gaze darkened at that, his smile becoming slightly more rougish. Tauriel felt a kind of breathless excitement pool inside her belly. "Absolutely not," came Kíli's reply, and before she knew what was happening to her, he had pulled her with him, inviting her to dive with him into that sea of sheets and blankets, with no intention of surfacing for many hours ahead.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: So sorry for the wait. We've had a few weeks of such hot weather, my brain just wouldn't function and writing became almost impossible. Hope some of you are still out there, reading this!_

 **Chapter 24**

The sun was low in the sky when they ventured into the kitchen. So low in fact that Kíli had begun to wonder whether they should really bother to do so at all. Why not just stay in bed?

Both his rational mind and his churning stomach had convinced him, though, that it was time to leave the sanctuary that his small bedroom had become. This was not the first day that they had passed in this manner - in the three days since they had returned from the palace, he and Tauriel had dedicated their time exclusively to each other, the need to somehow make up for the time they had spent together and yet apart burning fiercely in either of them.

Now that they had reached a stage in their relationship where any boundaries still existing between them were minimal at the most, Kíli sometimes found it hard to comprehend why it had taken them so long to get there. The answer for that, for the most part, were his own stubbornness, his fear of breaking something that could not be fixed, and his grief of course. All those things were still present inside of him, but somehow they had stepped into the background to allow what had grown between him and Tauriel to blossom.

And blossom it did. Kíli felt the corners of his mouth twitch in a smirk when he thought about those three days of complete bliss and contentment that lay behind them. The things they had done... It was almost impossible to wrap his mind around the fact that one could be this close to a person, that two souls could lose themselves so completely in one another.

Despite that, there were also moments where a sudden shyness would take hold of one or even both of them, where the fear of hurting the other or of being hurt in turn would suddenly return, dimming their happiness and threatening to throw them back into old patterns. Luckily, as of yet, they had been able to overcome those feelings and it had never taken them long to find their way back out of the shadows and into the light.

Now, standing in the Swallow Nest's kitchen in the bright light of the afternoon, they were both a bit disoriented and neither appeared to remember for a moment what they had come here to do. Kíli caught Tauriel's gaze and he sent her a slightly sheepish smile which she returned, her cheeks turning slightly pink with some thought passing through her head. Kíli was able to guess the nature of that thought rather well and it took him quite the amount of willpower not to grab her around the waist then and there and pull her against himself to kiss her senseless.

As it was, however, he confined himself to just a little wink, his eyes holding a promise which he intended to fulfil later. He did not allow himself to pause on the deepening of Tauriel's blush and opened their storage cabinet instead, surveying its contents.

"Oh, good, more Lembas bread," he commented dryly while his stomach gave a slightly disappointed churn.

Tauriel stepped up close behind him and reached past him for a package wrapped in cloth. Inhaling her scent, Kíli almost but not quite forgot how hungry he was. "There ist still some dried meat left," Tauriel said, frowning while her eyes scanned the shelves. "And apples, and cheese. It's not a feast, but we'll make do."

Her tone sounded slightly apologetic and Kíli turned around, stretching up so as to place a soft kiss to her lips. "Of course we will." He lingered with his face close to hers for a moment, the soft tickle of her breath against his skin causing him to once again forget why they were there in the first place.

This time it was Tauriel's turn to send him a slightly self-conscious grin. "Why don't you set the table while I prepare the food," she suggested, her hand brushing his arm in a gesture that was sweet in its shyness, considering the much more intimate things they had done with - and to - each other over the past couple of days.

Kíli nodded and together they set about preparing their meal. They did not speak much during their preparations and while they ate, but the silence between them was by no means uncomfortable. Kíli knew that there were topics that would need to be addressed eventually, but for now he was content to let them rest for a while and he knew that Tauriel felt the same.

When they were finished with their meal and had put all food and other items away once more, they both lingered about the kitchen for a little bit longer, neither sure how the remainder of the day should be passed. Without question, Kíli would not have minded one bit to head straight back to his room, with Tauriel for company of course. Still, he did not want to run the risk of reducing their time together to their activities between the sheets and while the last few days had been the most wonderful in his life, he had felt at some points as if they were losing themselves in each other to an extent where it would become very hard to adapt once they were faced with reality outside their bedroom. Which, inevitably, they would be at some point.

Considering those conflicting impulses of his, he experienced a mixture of disappointment and relief when Tauriel eventually suggested for them to retire to the study for some reading.

Daylight was beginning to fade outside and the prospect of some quiet time in front of a warm fire did seem enticing. Since Legolas' visit, Tauriel had filled Kíli in on the things she had learned about Iondaer during her conversation with the Elven prince. Another piece of the puzzle had been found - but where did it fit in with the rest of the elusive healer's history?

In the madness of the past week, their attempts at unravelling the complicated history of Tuilimbar's former inhabitants had been put on hold for a little while. Still, though, Kíli's curiosity burned with an urgency he did not quite comprehend.

He understood Tauriel's need to uncover the truth about the lives of Faerveren and Iondaer, for she had once been close to them. He himself had never even met them, and yet he, too, experienced a similar kind of personal concern.

How that had come to be, he could not quite say. Sometimes, when his more gruesome dreams of Fíli and Thorin left him in peace for a while, images of the two dead Elves would be scattered through his nightly visions. Which was more than a little odd, for aside from that one drawing of Faerveren, he had never laid eyes on either of them. Still, he knew the figures in his dreams to be them, watching over him.

He drew a hand a across his brow to wipe away a thought he could not quite grasp. In daylight those imaginings of nighttime seemed far away and made much less sense to him than they did to his sleeping self. Not for the first time he reminded himself to focus on the time he was allowed to spend with Tauriel instead of letting himself be carried away by a mystery which eluded him.

Inside the study both Kíli and Tauriel hesitated for a bit. The two armchairs were the only seating possibilities and while they had occupied them gladly for the past couple of weeks it suddenly seemed strange to sit apart like two casual acquaintances would. After taking their meal sitting opposite from one another the desire for physical contact, for the reassurance of the persisting affection of the other, was mounting in either of them.

When Kíli caught Tauriel's eye and saw the the same feelings which he experienced reflected in them, she blushed, biting her lip in the way he had noticed her to do sometimes when insecurity overcame her. Deciding that by all means they should be past this point already, Kíli winked at her and crossed over to the chair she ususally sat in, lowering himself to the floor right in front of it. When she hesitated still, he reached out to her, taking her by her hand, and guided her to her usual seat. Her cheeks were adorably flushed when she sat down gingerly and a little stiffly. Kíli tried his best not to let his own nervousness show when he leaned his body against her legs, angling his head up to smile at her.

"Will this be alright?" he asked.

Tauriel's cheeks grew a little pinker still, a curious glimmer in her eyes. She nodded. "Yes. Quite alright," she answered, her voice a little breathless.

It took her a minute, but eventually Kíli felt her relax into their new position. He marvelled sometimes at how she would often be rather self-assured in their more intimate caresses, assertive even of how she wanted to be touched, and how then, in other instances, the most innocent of touches would catch her off guard. Maybe it was because she had never known true closeness in all of her long life - from what he knew of it at least.

He experienced a stab of pity. It was not as of he had been particularly lucky in his life as far as meaningful romances went. However, his family had been a constant in his life not merely in a sprititual, but also in a physical sense. The embrace of his mother, the affectionate grasp of his brother's hand on his shoulder - those were gestures he had grown up with and which, until recently, had been sources of strength and comfort. To think what he would have been without them was even more painful than the fact that they could sustain him no longer.

He vowed to himself then to try and make up for some of the time which Tauriel had spent alone on this Earth. He gently nudged her against her leg. "Would you rather read or just sit together?"

Tauriel appeared to consider this for a moment. "Read, I think," she finally said. "At least for a little while."

Kíli nodded, trying not to let his mind run wild with imaginings of what they might do after this 'little while'.

Pulling Faerveren's inheritance towards her, Tauriel rifled through the pages, her brow furrowed in concentration. When she found something of interest to her, her face lit up with curiosity.

"What is it?" Kíli asked, intrigued.

"It's a letter from Iondaer," she replied. Those were quite rare - it seemed that the healer had not been an enthusiastic writer, usually choosing to express his feelings through more indirect means. Such as that drawing Kíli had stumbled upon a little while back, the incident still causing his cheeks to feel a little warm.

As it was, the lack of verbal correspondence from Iondaer was one of the reasons why Tauriel and Kíli found it so difficult to piece together the healer's side of the story. A wall of silence seemed to surround his character, the mysteries created by this silence quite impenetrable.

Intrigued to finally find a letter written by the healer himself, Kíli turned sideways in his position on the floor, so that he might look up at Tauriel more easily. While her brow was furrowed in concentration her eyes were quickly scanning the letter.

"Well?" Kíli asked when minutes had passed and she had still said nothing. "What is it about?"

Tauriel's eyes flickered to him before returning to the page she held in her hands. "I- I'm not sure," she finally said. "It appears to be about many things at once."

Kíli had the distinct impression that there was something in Iondaer's letter Tauriel was not sure she wanted him to hear. He wondered what it might be. "Will you read it to me?" he asked tentatively.

Tauriel took another moment where she worried her lower lip between her teeth. "Alright," she finally said.

Kíli leaned back against the armchair once more, his fingers casually playing with the hem of the dress Tauriel had slipped on earlier, the fabric soft between his fingertips. Her voice, when she began to read, was slightly hesitant.

"My dear," she read, "you are removed from my side and for the time being it is quite impossible for me to reach you in any way other than by letter, so a letter it shall be. I am, as a matter of fact, not even sure whether it will find its way to you, even though I fervently hope it will, for there are many things which burden my soul and which I wish to communicate to you.

"After what happened, your family was quite adamant that all contact between us should be suspended and if it were up to them, I believe we should never speak to each other again. I believe I know enough of you, however, to know that you will not let others decide your fate and so I hope that you will consider continuing the journey you and I have embarked on despite what others may want you to do.

"Your father, of course, blames me for what happened to you. He is not alone in that sentiment. I myself am my own hardest judge and not an hour goes by where I do not reproach myself for forcing you into a situation which resulted in you getting hurt. When I sent you out on your own I allowed my own temper to get the better of me - I felt that you were breaking through those walls I had built so carefully around my heart and my almost childish annoyance at that fact caused me to treat you more harshly than you might ever deserve, my own anger blinding me to the danger of the mission I burdened you with."

Tauriel paused, causing Kíli to look up at her. "Do you know what mission he speaks of?" he asked.

Her small frown already gave him his answer. "Iondaer does not elaborate on it. I can only assume that it was somehow part of Faerveren's training and that she was injured during it."

Kíli thought about this for a moment. "Maybe he sent her into battle or something of that sort."

Tauriel gave a small shrug. "It is possible, although I cannot think of one that took place during the period this letter must have been written in. But then again, it was an awfully long time ago and long before I was even born."

Just the thought of the amount of years they were talking about here made Kíli feel slightly dizzy and more than a little insignificant in the grander scheme of things. He shook himself. "Well, whatever it was that happened, it seems that Iondaer finally got it through his thick skull that Faerveren belonged at his side."

His slightly self-conscious grin was answered with a small laugh from Tauriel. "Yes, such realisations can take a long time, can't they," she said pointedly, causing Kíli's ears to feel slightly warm.

She reached out then and put her hand against his cheek, finding his gaze and holding it to let him know that it was alright - better to come around late than never. He covered her hand with his and for a moment either of them forgot what they had been talking of in the first place.

It was Tauriel who came back to the presence first and she picked up Iondaer's letter once more, her cheeks slightly more flushed than they had been before. Kíli settled back into his original position while she resumed her reading.

"The worst of the whole situation I forced you into is that this is not the first time this has happened in my life. You have heard the rumours about an accident which befell a former student of mine, I am sure, and I am ashamed to tell you that at their heart, those rumours are true. Lhinben was the last student I took on - except for you of course - and I am to blame for her death.

"She was not ready, but I, blinded by idealism and my beliefs about the profession of the healer, pushed her too hard. You know, of course, that I regard the gift of healing not merely as a convenience, but a responsibility, even. The gift was bestowed upon us for a reason, and it is our duty to cultivate it, to use it, even if that means putting others' well-being above one's own fears and desires. The fact that you shared this view, was, in the end, one of the reasons I was persuaded to take you on as my apprentice.

"In Lhinben's case, however, I was wrong to stubbornly adhere to my principles. I was trying to prove a point to myself, to her, to those back at the king's court who would rather sit in their libraries instead of getting their hands dirty, and Lhinben paid for my arrogance and my obstinacy with her life.

"I have never forgiven myself for what happened, doubting, for a long time, that I was qualified to pass on my knowledge to others, as I had thought it my duty for such a long time. You were the one who changed that - you were the one who changed everything, in fact, when you came into my life. And still - _still_ \- I made the same mistake again, and, worse, this time I acted not merely out of idealism and pride, but out of fear and cowardice.

"It may be too late already, according to your father it most certainly is, but I will swear to you now, ink on paper, that I will be a coward no more. Not for a single day that I get to spend walking this earth will I deny the fact that I love you, Faerveren, most ardently. You have given me hope when I thought there was none, you have given me something to fight for when everything seemed grey to me, the days just blending into one another.

"I hope you will allow me to prove to you that even an old fool such as I can change, that I can learn from my mistakes. And if you do, I hope that you will return to me, not as my student, but as my equal, my partner, my mate. I know that this is a lot to ask, given the misery I've caused you, and probably much more than I deserve. But, as I said, you taught me to hope once more and so hope I will until the day you should decide to tell me otherwise.

Always yours,

I."

Tauriel fell silent. She turned the letter over in her hands and smiled when her eyes found some more writing on the back of it.

"What is it?" Kíli asked.

She chuckled. "It's a recipe for a cough medicine he must have forgotten about when he used this particular piece of parchment for his letter."

Kíli, too, was moved to a low laugh. "Somehow that strikes me as something very typical of Iondaer's character."

Her smile was warm when her eyes found his. "It is indeed. You have come to know him quite well, haven't you, in the weeks that have passed."

"As strange as that may sound, yes," Kíli replied, the fondness which he felt for both Iondaer and his spouse still surprising even to himself.

They both fell silent after that. It was not a comfortable silence, however, and Kíli could sense the tension rolling off Tauriel in waves. He knew what it was that was causing her to feel this way of course, knew now why she had hesitated to read Iondaer's letter to him.

Maybe it was due to the fact that they had gotten much of the nervous anxiety which had built up between them out of their systems over the past couple of days, or maybe he was simply more well-rested than he had been for a long, long time, but somehow Kíli found that the issue which was clearly putting Tauriel on edge failed to do the same for him.

"Do you feel the same as Iondaer," he asked her, deliberately keeping his voice as matter-of-factly as he could, "with regard to the responsibility which comes with healing abilities? That one should exercise this gift, no matter what?"

Tauriel hesitated. "In essence I do, yes," she finally admitted. "But I would never go as far as Iondaer or Faerveren, for that matter. I believe Elhadron told you why she and I drifted apart all those years ago?"

Kíli nodded. "Because she wanted you to choose between being a warrior and being a healer."

"Precisely. She – and I am sure Iondaer shared her view – felt that that nothing in a healer's life should distract them from their calling. And while I do believe that it is my and other healers' responsibility to help where help is required, I also believe that there are always other circumstances to be considered as well."

"Circumstances such as mine?" Kíli asked, deciding not to dance around the issue any longer.

Tauriel looked at him long and hard. "You are asking me whether I believe it to be your duty to cultivate the abilities you were so surprisingly presented with?"

Kíli thought this over for a moment. "Well, yes, that and whether I should not stop short of anything in order to find out more about what happened to me. Even if that means travelling to Lothlórien."

Tauriel's silence lasted for several moments. "I do not want to leave Tuilimbar," she finally admitted, her voice small. Kíli immediately reached for her hand, sensing her distress. She returned the pressure of his fingers and continued, reassured. "And still I feel that neither of us will truly be at peace with ourselves and each other until we do just that. I do not want to pressure you into doing anything at all and I hope my suggestion that I might teach you certain healing techniques did not make you feel otherwise. However, seeking out the Galadhrim might help you understand this new part of yourself - even if you decide not to practice it."

"I'm not even sure I could if I wanted to," Kíli muttered.

This time it was Tauriel's turn to squeeze his hand. "Of course you could. I have felt your light touch me when you saved my life, remember? And let me tell you, it burned brightly enough for the two of us."

Kíli averted his gaze, both touched and a little bit embarrassed by her words. Tauriel slid off her seat and sat next to him on the floor, her hands still holding his.

"I am serious," she said, leaning in close until he finally looked at her. "Your spirit is strong, much stronger than you might believe. And no matter what you choose to do, it will always guide you even through the darkest of days."

Kíli could not suppress a slight shiver. "I hope those lie behind us already."

Tauriel nodded and reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. "So do I."

Kíli allowed himself a moment where he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. When he opened them again he felt oddly calm. "Let's do it, then. Let's travel to Lothlórien. But not right away - there are some other things we should do first."

Tauriel smiled slightly. "Such as?"

Kíli shrugged. "Well, there's still that whole business with the spiders. I would feel like a bit of a coward if we left Elhadron to handle it."

"I am sure he would not see it that way," Tauriel returned, "but I see what you mean. We should at least find out more about what the threat really is."

Kíli nodded. "Then-" he hesitated, his gaze drifting to a spot on the wall, "then I thought you really might teach me a thing or two. So that I won't be at a complete loss at what to do if something happens - if you or someone else gets hurt."

When he looked at Tauriel once more, he could tell that she was quite pleased with his suggestion, maybe even a little bit excited. Still, she remained true to her promise not to pressure him and kept a mostly straight face when she nodded in reply. "Yes, of course. Anytime."

This time it was Kíli who reached out and put his hand against her cheek, smiling at her fondly. He still wondered how he deserved someone as wonderful, as selfless as her. All her patience with the insane turns that his life seemed to be taking as of late - it really was incredible.

Tauriel smiled a little self-consciously and turned her face into his palm to place the softest of kisses into it. The touch of her lips against his skin sent a bolt of lightning through his entire body and he could not surpress a slight, pleasurable shiver.

"What?" she asked, feeling the small tremor that ran through him.

"I just thought of something else that I want to do before we go anywhere at all." He was able to hear the thrumming of his pulse resonate in his own ears, and he was almost certain that it skipped a beat or two when she dipped her face a little lower and kissed the inside of his wrist, her lips lingering against the soft skin there.

"Did you?" she breathed, her eyelids fluttering closed. She knew of course what he was talking about, but that did not weaken the wave of nervous anticipation that washed over him.

He felt a bit unsteady when he reached out with his free hand and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her face towards his. Her lips found his immediately and he sighed when they parted for him, allowing him to claim her mouth in a deep, bruising kiss.

He could not have said if he had given the impulse or if Tauriel had taken the intitiative, but suddenly she was on top of him, straddling his lap while he still leaned with his back against the armchair. When her lips left his and she began kissing the side of his neck while her hands started working the lacings of his shirt, revealing his bare skin underneath, Kíli's head fell back against the cushioned seat.

The flames of the fire they had lit made shadows dance across the ceiling and he felt his head grow slightly dizzy as his Elven lover continued her administrations to his body, her hands confident in their touch. His breathing grew more ragged the further south Tauriel's nimble fingers travelled, her breath warm against the sensitive skin on his neck.

Before he could lose the last bit of control he had over himself and put a premature end to this encounter they had both been anticipating for the better part of the evening, Kíli gripped Tauriel around the waist and held her to him while he sat up and pushed her back, so that they both came to lie on the fur in front of the fireplace, him on top of her.

Hungrily he reclaimed her mouth, their lips and tongues dancing a dance they had practiced at length during those past couple of days. The warmth radiating from the fire had become more intense with their change of positions and it was a relief to finally remove his shirt completely and only a moment or two passed before it was joined by his trousers in a small pile on the wooden floor.

While Tauriel's fingers traced distracting patterns on his bare back, Kíli turned his attention to her dress. It was a simple yet beautiful garment that hugged her lovely figure in all the right places. What excited him even more than the dress' alluring look was the discovery that Tauriel wore nothing underneath - nothing at all.

He took his time removing the dress, slowly revealing more and more of her body as he pushed it upwards. Each bit of skin that was laid bare in the process he covered with kisses, kisses that made her squirm underneath him and that caused her cheeks to glow.

With that single piece of clothing of hers finally gone, Kíli wasted to time to join his body to hers, the need to do so burning so fiercely inside of him that he simply could not deny his body this longed for reward any longer. Tauriel gasped with pleasure when he entered her and as they moved together Kíli found himself losing all sense of time and place, her skin on his and the taste of her on his tongue all that matter for those blissful moments.

When Tauriel shuddered beneath him and clutched him even closer to her body, her nails digging into the skin on his back, Kíli gladly followed her over the edge, a sky full of tiny stars exploding behind his closed eyelids as he did so. They held each other for a long time afterwards, the flames of the fire warming their skin.

„Amrâlimé," Kíli whispered after a little while, when they were still both basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. He knew that eventually desire for each other would take hold of them once more, but for now he was content to just lie here, with her in his arms, in a way he would never have dared to dream about not too long ago.

„Meleth nîn," Tauriel whispered back, and even though he did not know the words he did not have to ask her what they meant. There was not a doubt in his heart about that.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: I'm seriously unhappy with myself for abandoning this story for such a long time. I accidentally deleted this chapter months ago and somehow I was never quite able to get it right again afterwards. However, there are still places that I want to take this story to and I refuse to give up before I have done so. That being said, I've decided to jump ahead a little with this chapter and to directly send Kíli and Tauriel on that journey to Lothlorien which Legolas suggested in the previous chapter. If there's anyone still reading this - hope you enjoy!_

 **Chapter 25**

With that particular mixture of utter admiration and slight anxiety in which only one lover can behold the other, Tauriel watched Kíli's descend from one of the large trees that was perched on the bank of the small stream they had chosen as today's campsite. Since neither of them felt that the journey they had set out on a few days back required them to be in any real hurry, they usually chose a spot where they would spend the night at some point during the afternoon and used what remained of the light of day to train or work on their weapons. When traveling inside Mirkwood, Tauriel knew all too well, it could be quite dangerous to become negligent of one's defenses for even a little while.

During the weeks they had remained at Tuilimbar after the king's surprising recommendation to seek out the Galadhrim, Tauriel and Kíli had taken several trips into the forest – sometimes accompanied by Elhadron and his men, sometimes on their own – in order to resolve the situation with the spiders. They had, however, been unsuccessful in so far that they had not managed to determine a pattern behind the sightings of the eight-legged beasts.

They had come across smaller clusters from time to time, but those were too far apart in a geographical sense to say that the spiders were traveling into any common direction. Thus, they had been forced to assume that whatever had happened at Dol Guldur had left the spiders without any particular driving force behind their actions and that they were now randomly populating areas of Mirkwood.

No one was entirely satisfied with this theory, but since no other explanation seemed to be in sight, Kíli and Tauriel had eventually decided that there was no point in them delaying their journey to Lothlórien any longer. If anything, their voyage southward might give them more chances at taking out further spider nests. And so they had left the homeliness of Tuilimbar with slightly heavy hearts and a bit of excitement for new adventures, the threat that the spiders posed always on the periphery of their thoughts, keeping them on their toes at almost every minute.

Today, however, Tauriel was allowed a little bit of laziness while Kíli practiced some of the skills she had taught him over the past few months. As she watched him come down the tree he had previously climbed, alternating between swinging from branches and gliding down portions of the trunk on the soles of his feet, she could not but admire the progress he had made in such a short time. While he would always lack the grace and nimbleness of the Elves, his movements were precise and efficient, allowing him to quickly master almost every challenge he himself or Tauriel picked during their training units.

In addition to his quick progress, Tauriel was struck by how he had changed physically. Not only had he grown accustomed to the Elvish style of clothing, finally even abandoning his clumsy boots in favour of the Elvish ones that were suited so much better for the uneven ground in the forest. Tauriel also thought that he had grown leaner since their arrival in Mirkwood even while his body remained as strong and muscular as she remembered it from when they had first met. His hair had grown longer as well and he now usually wore it tied back, several unruly strands of dark hair escaping the clasp he used to do so. Tauriel loved watching him push them out of his face impatiently whenever he really concentrated on a task, the movement of his hand one of those little unconscious habits she was beginning to notice only now that she knew him rather well.

Now that he neared the ground, his brow was furrowed in concentration as well, even though his hands had more important things to do than dealing with stray locks of hair. Tauriel winced when it briefly looked as if he might lose control over his descend and tumble to the ground, but then he regained control over his body and managed to swing from the lowest set of branches, landing on one of the tree's gigantic roots where it bulged from the earth at the edge of the water.

He wobbled slightly while he fought for balance. When he was sure that he had found secure footing, he looked over his shoulder and sent Tauriel his most cocky grin. She hid the fact that she really was quite proud of him behind a roll of her eyes. Then, following a sudden mischievous impulse, she reached into her bag and tossed him an apple.

"Catch!" she called, feeling laughter bubble up inside her at his baffled expression.

As she had known they would, Kíli's reflexes made him reach out and catch the apple in his right hand. This, however, caused him to lose his precarious balance and he fell into the river behind him with a loud splash.

Tauriel clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggle while Kili coughed and spluttered and then sat up to fix her with a very dark glare.

"What, are you trying to drown me?" he asked, wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead.

Now Tauriel really did laugh. "That would be a feat indeed, given that the water barely reaches past your knees."

Kíli huffed in mock indignation. "Taller men than me have drowned in waters more shallow."

Tauriel smiled. "I am sure they did." She took in his disheveled state. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me."

Kíli threw back his wet hair with as much dignity as possible in his current predicament. "Don't fret," he said. His smile turned into a sly grin. "Actually, the water is quite nice. Why don't you join me for a swim?"

The droplets of water that ran down the side of his neck as well as the way in which his soaked shirt clung to his upper body almost tempted Tauriel to accept his offer. However, she was not fooled so easily. It might have been a rather nice day, the taste of spring in the air impossible to deny. Still, winter had yet to leave completely and Tauriel would have bet her nicest set of arrows that the water in the little river was hardly anything else but freezing.

"No, thank you," she thus said, her accompanying grin telling Kíli that she saw through his ploy.

He appeared to sulk for a moment before his grin turned mischievous once more. "Fine," he drawled while he began to wade out of the water, "if you won't come to me, then I'll have to come get you myself."

And with that he launched himself out of the stream and came towards her with impressive speed for someone who was slowed down by several dripping wet items of clothing. Tauriel gave an actual squeal and was on her feet in an instant, trying to escape the very wet and, more importantly, very cold embrace of her lover. She let him chase her up and down the riverbank for a couple of minutes and when he finally did get a hold of her, his arms encircling her narrow waist, she did not resist and allowed him to pull her to the ground, icy droplets of water falling off his body and onto hers, causing her skin to tingle.

His lips were cool when he pressed them to her neck, her throat, her collarbone and she let her head fall back against the soft, mossy ground to allow him better access to those sensitive regions of her body. The sky visible through the foliage above was blue and as Tauriel inhaled the fragrant air of early spring she thought that she had never felt this alive.

She arched her back when Kíli began trailing kisses along the neckline of her dress, her small sighs encouraging him to continue. And continue he did. His practiced hands slid underneath her knee-length dress, fingers sliding into the waistband of her leggings to tug them down her long legs. Swiftly he removed both them and her boots, pausing only to press a couple of soft kisses against the inside of her thigh just above her knee because he knew by now that this always made her giggle.

In breathless surprise Tauriel lifted her head from its mossy pillow when Kíli did not come to lie on top of her afterwards, but let his fingers retrace the path her pants had just taken and let them travel up her legs once more, his mouth following in their wake.

"What are you doing?" she asked when he pushed up her dress, bunching up the fabric in his palms. His lips never left her skin and when, after reaching the apex of her thigh, she felt the warmth of his breath against the sensitive flesh between her legs, she let her head drop back to the ground with a trembling sigh.

"Oh. _That_ ," she got out, her fingers digging into the soft earth as Kíli's lips continued their administrations to her body, every nip, every small flick of his tongue causing ripples of pleasure to shoot through her.

When his fingers joined his lips in order to reach places his mouth could not, Tauriel nearly let go, abandoning herself entirely to those waves of pure lust. In a movement that surprised herself - and Kíli for that matter - she however reached for him and pulled him up, so that he came to lie on top of her.

"Won't you let me finish?" he asked, his eyelids heavy with his desire.

"I will," she got out while her fingers began to fiddle with his belt, "but not like this."

Kíli did not need to be told twice and once their fumbling hands had managed to push his trousers down far enough, he joined his body to hers swiftly, urgently.

His hair was still dripping and the wetness of his shirt was beginning to soak through the front of her dress, but Tauriel did not care. If anything, the fact that they were both still wearing most of their clothes excited her even further and she found her hands closing around fistfuls of fabric, bringing Kíli even closer to her as they moved together.

It did not take long for her to reach her peak – given Kíli's excellent groundwork – and as she did Kíli was right there with her, holding her close as they were each consumed with their passion for the other.

Afterwards they lay on the ground, staring up into the trees and the sky beyond while their breathing became gradually calmer. Tauriel felt so relaxed, so utterly at ease, that she felt herself drift into a light sleep. And she knew that it was alright for her to do so, since Kíli was there to watch over her.

She could not exactly tell how much time had passed when she became fully aware of her surroundings once more – it was still light though, so it could not have been more than an hour.

Kíli lay on his stomach next to her, his body propped up on his elbows so that he might gaze at a book resting on the ground before him. Tauriel noticed that he had put on his spare shirt and trousers, his wet clothes drying on a low branch above a small fire he had built. They were careful when it came to open fires in the dark because of the unwanted visitors they might attract. Since there was still plenty of daylight left, however, Tauriel deemed it safe enough and enjoyed the warmth radiating from the flames.

Sitting up she peered over Kíli's shoulder at the pages he was studying. The book was one of her own volumes, one that she had received from Faerveren during the earlier days of her training. It was a comprehensive account of plants with healing properties, complete with instructions on how to use them and where to find them.

Ever since Kíli had asked her to pass some of her knowledge on to him, they had used books such as this as starting points for his studies. They had scribbled translations of the elvish writings in the margins, so that Kili would also be able to read them on his own. Although by now Tauriel was beginning to suspect that his grasp of Sindarin was increasing day by day – he was a quick learner, even though he was very reluctant to accept such praise from her.

"I'm not exactly known as the scholarly type," he had told her once when she had remarked on his excellent progress, "nor would you find anyone who'd call me particularly bright."

"Then maybe they just do not know you very well," Tauriel had returned gently. "Not like I do."

Kíli had blushed then and attempted another joke, but Tauriel had seen that her words had touched him. It was a mystery to her how anyone could not see how sharp a mind the young dwarf possessed, but apparently that was more or less how he viewed himself in the eyes of others.

Now, as she leaned in a little closer to be able to press a light kiss to Kíli's neck, his hand reached up to cover hers where it rested on his shoulder, his eyes not leaving the page before him. Tauriel, too, studied the drawing and the accompanying inscriptions.

"Elderberry," she commented. "Do you remember what it is used for?"

"Pain and infections," Kíli replied immediately, "particularly when occurring together with swelling."

"Correct." Tauriel smiled proudly. "And do you remember the incantation that can be used with it?"

Kíli was silent for a couple of moments. "I cannot," he then said, the frown on his face clearly mirrored in his voice. "But I —no, this is going to sound very silly."

"Tell me anyway," Tauriel said gently.

Kíli sighed. "I can't remember the words, but... but when I think about what they are to be used for I _feel_ something, I suppose." He turned his head to look at her. "I'm aware that that sounds terribly foolish."

"It does not." Tauriel held his gaze. "What you feel is your gift calling to you, guiding you." When Kíli frowned in disbelief she went on. "Anyone can memorize the words of a spell or learn to identify a plant. But only those with a true calling can use both to their full effect."

The frown on Kíli's face remained although the lines on his forehead grew a little less pronounced. "But what if I don't learn fast enough? Or if I cannot remember what to do if worse comes to worst?"

Tauriel knew what worried him of course. That something might happen to her, again, and that this time it would be too late to save her. She knew because she feared the same for him, the knowledge that the happiness they had found with each other could so easily be destroyed always threatening to overwhelm her in her darker moments.

"When the time comes you will be ready," she now said to Kíli, forcing herself to cast aside her own doubts for his sake. "You will know what to do – have a little faith in yourself. Like I do."

He turned his head to place a soft kiss on her fingers then, a gentle smile playing around his lips. He did not say anything in reply, but Tauriel was able to tell that, for now, she had eased his fears a little.

She squeezed his shoulder before rising to her feet, leaving him to his studies. Stretching, she tried to catch the last few rays of sunlight on her skin – at least the few that made their way through the branches above. Following a sudden impulse, she strolled down to the small stream. Her legs and feet were still bare and after a brief moment of hesitation she stepped into the water.

As she had guessed before, the water was quite cold indeed. Lifting up her skirt, she took a few steps, enjoying the prickly feeling on her skin. With the water reaching up to just below her knees, she stood there, her toes digging into the sandy riverbed. It had been a long time since she had felt as connected to the forest as she did in that moment, her soul and the world around her in complete balance for the time being.

She inhaled, deeply, and allowed herself to enjoy this rare time of blissful peace. As it was usually the case with such things, though, it did not last very long. She could not say if it was something in the air that shifted or just a feeling deep inside of her, but all of a sudden she knew that something terrible was about to happen.

Her head whipped around and she gazed upstream, trying to determine the source of what she had just felt. She was so focused that she did not even notice Kíli approaching her from behind.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his fingers reaching out to brush against her arm. As it was so often the case these days he seemed to know that something was troubling her even though she had not said anything, had barely moved in fact.

"I'm not sure," she muttered while she inclined her head, straining all her senses. _There_. There it was again. Tauriel shook herself out of her reverie and turned around, her fingers grasping those of the young dwarf. "We should gather our things," she said, her tone calm but urgent. "I fear that there is something at work close by and whatever it is, I'm afraid it's bad news."

Kíli frowned. "Spiders?" he asked, his annoyance with that stubbornly persistent race more than obvious.

"It might be," Tauriel said vaguely for she was still unable to exactly identify the feeling which had overcome her a few moments ago. "We will know for certain in a short while."

Kíli raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Because they're coming for us?" He stared upstream, clearly looking for signs of an impending attack.

"They could be, but it won't make any difference," Tauriel replied, "because we will not sit tight and wait for them to do so."

Kíli smirked. "So I'll finally get to use all that training?"

The prospect of a fight did not make Tauriel particularly happy, but still Kíli's excitement was slightly infectious. "Let's not be reckless though," she cautioned. "If a fight can be avoided we should not provoke it."

"Ah, recklessness is not a common habit of mine," Kíli returned. "Don't you know me at all?"

Tauriel rolled her eyes and hid her fond smile by stepping around him in order to head for their belongings. "I know you a little too well, I'm afraid."

As they gathered their things and hid everything but their weapons between the roots of a large oak, Tauriel was unable to shake the slightly unpleasant tickling at the back of her neck, that queasy feeling of being about to come face to face with an unknown danger. Even while the warrior inside of her was practically begging her to take out whatever it was that was lurking in the shadows, she hoped that by confronting their enemies instead of running from them, they were not getting themselves into more trouble than they were able to handle.

Checking her weapons one last time, she straightened up and turned to look at Kíli. As their eyes locked, she felt a powerful wave of calm wash over her. She knew that they had no time to lose, but still she took the few steps necessary to be able to reach for his hands. Bringing their joined hands up between their bodies, she pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"Amrâlimê," she said, her eyes never leaving his.

Kíli pulled one of his hands free in order to cup her cheek in it. "I promise to be careful," he said, his voice more serious than before, "if you promise to do the same."

There it was again. They were both so terrified of the other getting hurt, their protectiveness over each other stronger than any instinct of self-preservation. In a relationship this might be a strength, but Tauriel was well aware that in battle it could easily become a weakness. However, there was nothing to be done about it, except hope that fate would spare them from having to make the kind of choices that loving someone more than yourself sometimes entailed.

She pressed her lips to his, firmly, trying to pour into her kiss all those things for which there was now no time to say. There will be plenty of time to do so, later, she told herself, willing those awful feelings of impending doom to subside.

"Are you ready?" she asked when she finally pulled away, not quite able to suppress a tiny tremor in her voice.

Kíli's responding gaze was earnest and reassuring, and Tauriel instantly felt calmer, the warmth in his eyes soothing to her in this moment of insecurity. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he said and in her heart she knew that it was true.

"Let's be done with it, then," she returned, allowing the strategic warrior to take over. It felt good to do so and she felt some of her anxiety fall away as she slipped into that familiar role.

With a final glance at the remnants of their campsite she turned to head upstream, Kíli falling into step behind her. What they were headed for exactly she had no way of knowing, but at least there was one thing she could always be certain of - he would have her back, no matter what.

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

_Author's note: I was so happy to see that some of you are still following this - thank you for letting me know that you're still there and enjoying Tauriel's and Kíli's (mis)adventures :-) Here's more._

 **Chapter 26**

He could feel it in the air, hear it in the rustling of the leaves, almost taste it on his tongue. The forest was like a creature, complete with moods, sounds and different sets of smells. And right now it was nervous, anxious even, like a warrior preparing for a battle he might not win.

Given the life he had led and the dangers he had faced, Kíli knew that it could never hurt to be tuned into your surroundings, to be able to read the signs that a place was sending you. Still, it surprised him that he now felt this way about Mirkwood, that the forest that had once been so confusing to him was becoming easier to read with each day he spent in it.

As he and Tauriel followed the small river upstream he could sense that they were getting closer and closer to whatever it was that was causing these changes in the air, that was silencing all birds and beasts. They moved carefully, taking frequent stops in order to assess their surroundings.

During one of those stops Tauriel suddenly grasped his wrist, nodding towards the thicket of branches high above their heads. Kíli did not have to ask what it was that she was trying to tell him. In the light of the afternoon sun one did not need Elven eyesight to make out the silvery threads amongst the treetops.

"So it's those bloody spiders indeed," Kíli muttered, keeping his voice low.

Tauriel frowned. "It seems to be. The strange thing is that there appears to be another force at work here."

"What do you mean? They've brought some friends?" Kíli did not quite manage to suppress a slight shudder at that thought. Anything in league with those monsters had to be very vile indeed.

Tauriel considered this for a moment, visibly straining all her senses for an exaplanation of whatever it was she was feeling. „Friend, foe – I am not sure which. All I know is that we should be on our guard."

Kíli nodded. "And either way, an enemy of theirs is not necessarily an ally of ours, is it?"

Tauriel nodded grimly and looked up at the few patches of sky visible through the dense foliage. Kíli followed her gaze. He estimated that they still had a fair amount of daylight left, but as the sun continued to sink lower in the sky, the shadows inside the forest grew ever longer. Not an ideal condition for a possible fight – unless they managed to locate whatever was causing the disturbance soon.

He did not have to voice those thoughts, for he was well aware that Tauriel was thinking along the same lines. "Let us move swiftly," she whispered, her body rigid with tension. Kíli longed to reach out to her, to ease some of that tension with the touch of his hand, but he knew that now was not the time for such distractions.

Instead he adjusted his weapons so that they were within easy reach and signalled with a nod that he was prepared to follow her lead. They travelled upstream for a little while longer. Kíli would not have needed Tauriel's iron grip on his upper arm to pinpoint the exact moment when they stepped into danger's immediate range. The air around them suddenly seemed to come to a complete standstill, all sounds of the forest muted by whatever it was that was poisoning this otherwise beautiful spring day.

Neither of them moved for a couple of seconds. They both felt it at the same time, a faint vibration in the ground. They exchanged a confused look. As the low rumble grew more distinct, Kíli watched fear seep into his lover's gaze.

"They are coming towards us," Tauriel whispered. "And they're moving quickly." She looked around with wide eyes, before her gaze moved upward. "Climb. As high as you can."

Kíli did not question her command. Where he would have been hesitant to clamber up into the ancient trees of Mirkwood a few months ago, he was now quite confident in his climbing skills. His grip was firm as he hoisted himself up further and further, following closely behind Tauriel until she signaled for them to stop.

They were now perched on a large branch about two thirds up the gigantic tree, hidden from the ground by the dense foliage but still able to observe what was happening below. For another few moments they saw nothing – however Kíli thought that the forest had gone darker than the angle of the sun merited, as if whatever was coming towards them was eclipsing the brightness of the afternoon light.

When they came, Kíli found them to be quite as horrid as he remembered from his last two encounters with their race. Eight-legged, many-eyed, bloodthirsty monsters that they were. What was a bit novel to him though, was how fast the spiders were able to move on the ground and he found that he was quite glad Tauriel and him were currently far above them, hidden in the trees.

He looked around for a moment, making sure that the spiders had not brought some kind of rearguard with them that might give them a nasty surpirse. But the trees remained still, no sign of anyone or anything being up here other than himself and Tauriel. Which was odd, really, for why should those creatures suddenly stay exclusively on the ground?

His attention was redirected to the earth below when Tauriel dug her fingers into his upper leg and gave a low hiss. He narrowed his eyes, struggling slightly to make out what was happening on the ground in the murky light. The spiders had stopped, and were grouped together at the edge of the small clearing below. It looked as if they were preparing themselves for a confrontation. Kíli did not have to wait long to find out what it was their attention was focussed on. From beneath the trees, a number of dark shadows emerged, advancing upon the cluster of spiders with a clear intent – attack.

Again, Kíli strained his sight. He frowned. "Are those wolves?" He whispered, keeping his voice as low as possible. The animals surely looked like wolves – only they were a lot bigger than any wolf he had ever seen.

Tauriel nodded, her jaw set. "Mirkwood wolves," she said, her voice so low that Kíli struggled to make out her exact words. "Their usual territory lies far up north. The fact that they are here now supports my suspicion that power balances inside the forest are shifting."

"I take it they are not particularly friendly?" Kíli asked.

"Neither friend nor foe," Tauriel returned. "The wolves are only loyal to themselves and have, as far as I am aware of, never chosen any particular side. It is advisable to stay out of their way though – I know of some elves who did not fare all too well during encounters with them."

As Kíli looked down at the large, ferocious animals, he could not say that he was all that surprised by Tauriel's assessment of their character. "They certainly do not seem to take kindly to the spiders," he mumbled, his statement accented by a couple of threatening snarls and growls issued by the wolves.

Both he and Tauriel watched in horrid fascination as the distance between the two groups grew ever smaller, their snarls and hisses becoming more and more aggressive. Then, for a split second, everything appeared frozen in place before spiders and wolves lunged at each other, fangs and teeth bared.

Both races fought with unparalleled brutality, but still Kíli found himself secretly rooting for the wolves. Despite what Tauriel had told him about their dangerous character, he could not help but somewhat admire them for the skill with which they fought and for the way the stood together. While the spiders each fought for themselves only and only used their numbers as an additional asset in the sense that it gave them a better chance to overpower their opponents, the wolves continuously looked out for each other, stepping in whenever one of them was struggling.

In a way the pack of wolves reminded Kíli quite painfully of the loyal group of dwarves which he had been allowed to call himself a member of during their journey across Middle Earth. While most of them had not been the greatest warriors, not a single one of them had ever hesitated to put themselves in harms way in order to save their brethren.

For a moment he was thrown back to that first encounter of his with the spiders, to how Fíli's screams had echoed through the forest when he had realised that his brother had gotten separated from the rest of the company, dragged away by one of those hellish creatures. He swallowed against a familiar lump that had formed in his throat at the memory of his lost brother. Now was not the time to be sentimental and he tried to redirect his attention to the fight that was still raging below.

With a frown he realized that the wolves were no longer at an advantage – the spiders had managed to take out quite a number of them, their blood staining the ground. Those wolves that remained were fighting close by each other's side, their teeth bared at their enemies. The spiders, too, had suffered considerable losses on their side, but there were enough of them still to encircle the wolves in the clearing below.

Kíli himself had fought in enough desperate situations where he and his comrades had been drastically outnumbered and was not one to give up hope easily. Still, he had to admit that things weren't looking particularly great for the wolves. He struggled against the impulse to join in the fight in order to improve their chances – it was too dangerous and Tauriel had made it clear that the wolves were not their allies. Which did nothing to change the strange connectedness he felt with them, particularly with a pair that reminded him of Fíli and himself, an almost black, young looking one and one with lighter, shaggy fur who now stood shoulder to shoulder, the protectiveness which each felt for the other apparent to the most innocent bystander.

Kíli's struggle not to get involved was ended abruptly by a sudden rustling in the leaves behind them. The hairs on his neck stood in horrified anticipation even before Tauriel whirled around and hissed a warning.

"We are not alone."

Kíli agreed with that, but even as he turned around to face the threat that was creeping up on them from behind, he realized that it was too late to hide, too late to flee.

The giant spider lunged at them from where it had been concealed from sight by leaves and branches. Kíli struggled to reach his weapons while he fought to keep his balance. Tauriel was faster, of course, and used her blades against the long, hairy legs that were reaching for them.

The spider recoiled, its venomous fangs bared in a blood-curdling snarl. Furious, it trew itself at them with renewed vigour. Kíli had drawn his sword in the meantime, but found that it was not much good up here in the treetops, for he was unable to find secure footing.

He tried to recall the many things he had learned from Tauriel about using the trees to your own advantage, but it was too late. Losing his balance completely when the spider came at him with uncontrolled fury, he found himself tumbling towards the ground together with the beast.

He was dimly aware of Tauriel following closely behind, her shape blurred into a whirl of green and red. Luckily the fact that the spider kept trying to grab him prevented him from hitting the many branches on their way down, for any impact with the tree itself was cushioned by the monster's enormous body. A few feet above the ground Kíli managed to regain some amount of control over his descent and, putting to use some of the things which Tauriel had taught him, landed on the earth with at least some amount of grace. The spider followed close behind and he hurried to remove himself from its reach by leaping forward.

Rolling over his shoulder he quickly got to his feet and whirled around, prepared to face his opponent. Tauriel, in the meantime, had landed on the back of the spider that had attacked them and Kíli felt confident that it would only be a matter of moments before the beast would succumb to her blades.

Assured that this threat at least was taken care of, he hurried to assess their situation. The wolves, he saw, had sustained further losses on their side. There were only three of them left that he could see, and they faced at least five more spiders – not counting the one Tauriel was currently introducing to the sharp end of her blades.

For a few moments neither of the fighting parties paid any attention to the new arrivals on the scene. When Tauriel delivered her final blow, however, and her eight-legged opponent gave a final, hair-raising screech, both wolves and spiders paused in their struggle and eyed the dwarf and the elf in their midst with a little too much bloodlust for Kíli's taste.

The decision who would fight whom was made easier by the fact that two of the remaining spiders came rushing towards them whereas the other three stayed with the wolves for the time being. _Here we go again_ , Kíli thought as he raised his sword, determined that this encounter with the spiders would not end as dramatically as their last one.

Had their opponents not been quite so abhorrent, Kíli might have actually enjoyed the next few minutes of the fight. He and Tauriel worked well together, both their training sessions and their growing ability to read each other playing out in their favour. One of the two spiders met its end rather swiftly, while the other proved a more stubborn adversary, keeping both of them on their toes for a good while.

Eventually they won the upper hand in their fight and, assured that Tauriel was in complete control of the situation, Kíli risked a glance to see how the other fighting parties were doing.

To his dismay there were only two wolves left now – the two young ones. Their teeth were bared at the spiders they were fighting, every fiber of their being struggling to win this fight. They both looked quite battered however, one of them limping quite pronouncedly while the other sported a large gash that ran right over his left eye.

Again, Kíli felt this overwhelming sensation of sympathy wash over him. _Stay out of this,_ he cautioned himself. You heard what Tauriel said about the wolves not being all that friendly.

But when the three remaining spiders launched their final attack in order to vanquish their opponents, Kíli threw all caution to the wind and jumped forward, intend on not letting the spiders win this fight. Two of them had gone for the wolf with the shaggy, lighter fur whereas the remaining one was coming for the young black one.

Intercepting one of the former two with a well-aimed strike against its long, hairy legs, Kíli wasted no time to demonstrate whose side he was fighting on. He thought that he saw the blonde wolf shoot an appreciative glance in his direction, but had no time to return it, for the spider quickly regained its footing and threw itself at him with every bit of strength it had left. Which turned out to be quite a lot, unfortunately. It was easy to tell why this particular specimen was one of the last ones standing in this fight – it fought more skilfully and cunningly than most of its sisters and proved quite the challenge to Kíli, his muscles straining under the sheer force with which the creature attacked him again and again.

He would have gained the upper hand eventually, of that he felt certain, but still it was a relief when Tauriel appeared at his side and they fought the beast together, slowly but surely bringing it closer to its well deserved end. In the same instant when Tauriel drew her blade and plunged it into the monster's massive body, Kíli heard an agonized yelp and whipped his head around just in time to see the black wolf go down, giant arachnid incisors sinking into his throat the moment he hit the ground.

The other wolf gave a desperate howl and made to abandon his opponent and run to his brother. The spider he had been fighting was however not willing to let him get away and threw itself at him. Kíli knew that he should not, but as he watched the creature sink its teeth into the young wolf's hind leg, he ran towards the pair, his blade drawn. The spider was dragging the wolf towards the treeline when he reached them, the sheer force it used causing Kíli to fear that it might just rip the wolf's leg off.

Since there was no time to come up with a brilliant plan – not that those were his strongest suit in the first place – Kíli barreled into the two opponents, hoping that he might startle the spider enough for it to let go of the wolf. Indeed the arachnid staggered backwards, but dragged the wolf with it. What neither party had been aware of was that the ground fell away rather steeply just beyond the trees – light was beginning to fade and sight conditions inside the forest were quickly deteriorating. Kíli's impact with the spider brought all three of them precariously close to the edge of the ravine and, after a moment were they all fought rather awkwardly for their balance, they went tumbling down into unknown depths, grunting, whimpering, hissing respectively as they went.

As he fell, Kíli thought he heard Tauriel shout his name somewhere close by, but he was too busy falling and trying not to break his neck to call out to her.

After what seemed like a long time, Kíli landed on his back with a thump that knocked all air from his lungs. He gasped, but staggered to his feet even while the world was still spinning and tried to assess the situation. The good news was that the spider had finally been forced to let go of the wolf. Also, it was now trapped between Kíli and the light-furred wolf, who looked worse for wear but had quickly struggled to his feet as well, baring his teeth at their eight-legged common enemy.

The spider was clearly distressed by the fact that it was now at a disadvantage, its many eyes darting frantically back and forth. Under such pressure it made the most predictable choice and went for the easier opponent which right now happened to be the injured wolf.

"Big mistake," Kíli muttered not without satisfaction and reached for his bow. His arrow cut through the air before the spider had managed to reach the wolf and hit it in the back of its ugly head, immediately rendering it incapable of movement. Kíli shot it with another two arrows just to be sure.

With the spider out of the picture, the wolf's attention was turned towards Kíli. The young dwarf felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up when the wolf fixed him with steely eyes, its lips turned up slightly to reveal just enough of his fangs to make Kíli not want to come in direct contact with them.

He held out his hands placatingly. He had no desire to fight the wolf and hoped it would not come to that. The wolf, however, would not calm down so easily. And suddenly Kíli realized that he probably felt threatened by him. The animal was clearly injured, the wound in his leg from where the spider had buried its fangs in his flesh clearly visible even in the fading light.

"I will not fight you," Kíli said, but still the wolf did not relax. And while Kíli gazed at it that strange feeling of connectedness which he had experienced before took hold of him again. "I, too, have lost my brother," he heard himself say. "And it felt as if a part of me died alongside him."

He had no idea if the wolf could understand him, but something told him that even if the animal did not know the words, it would still grasp his meaning. And indeed, after a few more tense moments where the wolf kept up his defense, he suddenly relaxed, turning his big furry head to lick the wound on his hind leg with a pitiable whimper.

Kíli approached cautiously, trying to assess the animal's condition. From where he was standing the wound looked rather fierce, dark red blood staining the wolf's light fur. As he drew closer still, the wolf's head snapped back around and he growled lowly as a warning.

Kíli stopped again. "I promise not to hurt you," he said. "Will you let me look at your wound? I might be able to help."

He had no idea whether the healing methods he had acquired over the past few weeks would work on an animal such as this –or any animal, for that matter– but he was willing to give it a try.

The wolf eyed him with suspicion and a fair bit of hesitation, but then stretched out his leg just a tiny bit, allowing Kíli a better view of the injury. Stepping closer, Kíli was relieved to see that the bleeding had already stopped for the most part, so a loss of blood would not become an acute danger. He was, however, worried about infection and the possible side effects of the spider's venom.

When they had left their campsite, he and Tauriel had left most of their belongings other than weapons behind, but Kíli was glad that he had brought his small satchel of herbs. Over the past couple of weeks he had tried to make a habit of always taking it with him whenever they went out – you never knew when you might need it and what good would all this healing knowledge do if he did not have the necessary equipment with him.

Slowly, in order not to startle the wolf, he reached for his satchel. "I have something here that might help you heal faster. Will you allow me to touch you?" The last thing he needed was for the animal to become frightened and bite off his hand or, worse, head in defense, so he figured that it would be better to ask for permission first.

The wolf stared at him for several long moments, but then gave his consent with a small bob of his head, confirming Kíli's suspicion that he could indeed understand him. Relieved, Kíli knelt down next to the large furry body, prepared to get to work.

At this precise moment a panicked voice cut through the ever growing darkness. "Kíli!"

Tauriel came skidding down the steep side of the ravine with an unusual amount of noise for her standards. The wolf was on his feet in an instant, teeth bared.

"She's a friend," Kíli tried to assure his companion immediately, but knew right away that it was too late. The moment of closeness between him and the wolf had passed and there was no way that the animal would expose itself to further risk now that it was faced with not one but two strangers.

Even before Tauriel had reached the bottom of the ravine, the wolf had leaped away, putting a safe amount of distance between himself and the pair. Kíli was glad that he did not attempt a fight, but disappointed as well that he did not get to try and treat the wound.

Before the wolf's silhouette was swallowed by darkness it turned around once more and looked straight at Kíli. Something passed between the dwarf and the animal then that Kíli would find himself unable to describe, much less explain, later. For the briefest of moments they each appeared to gaze into the soul of the other and saw that they were both the same.

In a blink of the eye though that moment had passed and Kíli tore his eyes away from the slowly dissolving form of the wolf to see Tauriel hurrying towards him, her face lined with worry. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands and eyes frantically searching his body.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked. "Why is there no blood?"

Kíli caught her hands in his own and held onto them firmly. "Tauriel," he said, but she would not look him in the eye, still searching for an injury that was not there. "Tauriel, stop. I'm not hurt."

He pulled her hands towards his face and finally she paused and really looked at him. "You're not?"

Kíli felt utterly terrible then, realizing with a sinking feeling in his gut that while he had focused all his attention on the injured wolf, Tauriel had been fearing the worst for him. Letting go of her hands, he cupped her face in his palms.

"I'm fine," he assured her. "A little bruised maybe, but that is all."

Tauriel sat back on her heels. "Oh," she said, a fair bit of tension leaving her body. "I thought— when I saw that wolf run off I assumed you had fought and that you had lost."

Kíli shook his head. "There was no more fighting after I took out that spider. I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "for causing you to believe that something had happened to me."

She looked at him then and beyond her relief to find him unharmed he could see a certain amount of hurt. Which pained him more than any angry reprimand could have done. "I thought we had agreed not to put ourselves into any unnecessary danger," she said, her gaze sliding from his.

"I know," he replied, ducking his head so that she was forced to look at him once more. "I knew it was stupid even while I did it. And I really am sorry."

After a few seconds she smiled wryly. "I suppose that is what your mother meant when she called you reckless."

"I suppose she did," Kíli smiled, relieved that she was not too upset. Still, he wished that there was a way to erase even that last bit of betrayal in her eyes. But since he was unable to think of any words that might do the trick, he cupped her face in his palms once more and kissed her.

He could feel her holding back for a few seconds, but then she gave in and returned his kiss, allowing him to pull her closer as she did so. When they pulled apart her cheeks were flushed and despite the fact that his body ached from his fall and that they were both covered in spiders' blood, Kíli felt desire pool in the depth of his belly.

However, this was neither the place nor the time for such things. They needed to get out of this ravine and back to their belongings, preferably before night had fallen completely. With some regret, Kíli forced himself to get to his feet, pulling Tauriel up as well. The way in which she laced her fingers through his as they started walking made his heart soar. Still, when they began climbing the side of the ravine, he could not help but gaze into the shadows, checking to see if a pair of yellow eyes was watching him. Something about his encounter with the blonde wolf felt incomplete to him, like a story that still needed to be told. For now, though, his own story was unfolding in front of him and he was prepared to follow it, eager to find out where it would lead him.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Thranduil did not turn around when he heard the door fall shut behind him. There was only one individual who would be allowed into his chambers without first being announced by his guards and only one who would dare come see him at this time of day without being summoned.

"Legolas," he greeted his son, reaching for a carafe of wine and pouring a second glass next to his own, already half empty goblet.

Glass in hand, he turned around and offered it to the prince. Legolas accepted the drink, even if a bit hesitantly, his smooth features marred by a frown, as was so often the case.

"You have been tracking them, then?" he asked his son, not missing a surprised flicker in Legolas' eyes at his awareness of what he had been doing these past few days. "You were gone longer than I expected."

"I went no further than the southern borders of your kingdom," Legolas answered, not even bothering to deny the truth in his fathers words. His voice, however, immediately took on that defiant tone which Thranduil so despised and which would particularly often come into play when their conversations revolved around a certain red-haired former Captain of the Guard.

The Elvenking tried to ignore his urge for a snide remark, his surprise at Legolas' quick return to Mirkwood after the battle at Erebor having thrown him somewhat off his usual ways. Out of a suddenly quite powerful desire not to further antagonise his son, he opted for a rather neutral tone instead. "And did you find Tauriel well?"

Legolas averted his gaze, obviously trying to hide his feelings from his father. "Quite well," he replied, his tone not exactly overflowing with joy at that fact.

"Jealousy," Thranduil commented, unable to hold himself back, "is a petty emotion, Legolas, and not very becoming of a prince." This was as close as he and Legolas would ever come to discussing the way that the prince felt about Tauriel and Thranduil was determined to keep it that way. It was not his fault if his son chose to follow her and the dwarf, tormenting himself while he watched them from the shadows.

Even his comparatively discreet remark was, however, rewarded with a scowl from his son. "I am not jealous," Legolas claimed, "but concerned for her safety. Clearly I am alone in that."

Thranduil sighed inwardly at the accusation implied in his son's statement. "I fail to see how this is of any relevance. Tauriel's banishment has been lifted and you said yourself that she is well. She chooses freely where to go and what to do. Can you not be content with that?"

"Content?" Legolas was becoming agitated. "Something odd is happening to that dwarf. For all we know he might pose a danger both to himself and to those around him – and yet you choose to ignore this and send them out into the world, all by themselves?!"

The king felt his blood begin to boil as his patience was fading quickly. "Is there nothing else for you to concern yourself with other than what is or what is not happening to the dwarf?"

Legolas shot his father a defiant glance. "How can you _not_ concern yourself with it?" he asked. "I do not know your role is in his unexpected survival, but whatever it is, you share at least some responsibility in what is happening now. He should be dead for all I know."

Thranduil seethed. He was a king. And as such he refused to allow any questioning of both his decisions and his abilities. Even if that questioning was done by his only child.

Or by himself, for that matter. For, if he was honest, a thought or two about the events atop Ravenhill had crept into his mind now and then. He had no qualms to admit that he had acted impulsively, out of a silly preference for one who should be nothing more to him than an ordinary subject. What he found much harder to own up to, however, was the fact that he might have tapped a little to deeply into the powers which he knew he possessed, but which needed to be executed with extreme caution.

Yes, there had been a spark of life left in the young dwarf, but Legolas was correct in assuming that he had been quite far gone already. The only other spirit Thranduil had ever tried to guide back into the world of the living that had been as close to death as Kíli's had been his wife's. He had failed then and he had almost failed on that fateful day on Ravenhill.

His recollection of what had happened was strangely hazy, but he did remember sensing other spirits aside from that of the dwarf when he had tried to pull him back from that black abyss of death. Like himself, those spirits had tugged at the dwarf's soul, some commanding him to stay, some telling him to go.

Thranduil remembered being unsettled by this, sudden worries whether maybe he had gone to deep taking hold of him. But then both he and the dwarf had surfaced from this great turmoil of wandering spirits, trading darkness for light.

The king inwardly shook himself, disgusted by his own doubt. He had succeeded in his endeavour, had he not? What did it matter that things had not gone entirely smoothly. He was among the most powerful elves of this age and he was done being questioned.

Still, it could not hurt to make completely sure that whatever was happening to Oakenshield's nephew had nothing to do with him and therefore was not his responsibility. Which was why he had sent him on that journey to Lórien. Let Galadriel answer the questions he was unwilling to confront. Also, this decision had the convenient side effect of removing the current inhabitants of Tuilimbar from his sight and – for the most part – his thoughts. If only that worked for his son as brilliantly as it did for him.

He looked back at Legolas, a stern expression on his face. "If you need another task, a mission, _anything_ to stop you from pestering me about what is or is not happening to the dwarf and to _my_ subject, maybe you could make yourself properly useful and seek out that Bowman to determine what he can offer us in exchange for the goods he is in desperate need of."

Another good plan, the Elvenking complimented himself. That way, Legolas would be kept busy and he would be able to further avoid any direct dealings with Dale and, more importantly, Erebor. All winter long he had successfully prevented any communication whatsoever between those two kingdoms and his own realm. He knew that it could not last forever, but it had been quite a relief not having to concern himself with the messes of men and dwarves for a good long while – except for one particular dwarf of course, but he would not think about that now.

Legolas regarded him coldly. "Bard is much more than a Bowman these days. His people call him their king."

"See," Thranduil sneered, "you already know him so much better than I do. Make sure that whatever agreement you make with him is at least a little bit profitable for us." He entertained the vague hope that this might suffice to send his son on his way, but of course Legolas would not make things that easy for him. He never did, these days.

"Why don't you go yourself?" the blonde prince asked angrily. And then, not waiting for an answer, "Unless you do not want to get too close to that mountain. You are, after all, hiding the heir to the dwarves' throne by sending him on a wild goose chase to the South. Bringing that matter to their attention might solve several problems at once."

Anger burned hot in Thranduil's throat – anger at Legolas for continuing to make his life so difficult and anger at himself for meddling in matters that made him susceptible to his son's threats in the first place. "You wouldn't dare," he spat. "You would not want to bear the responsibility for the chaos that would ensue."

As he had fervently hoped he would, Legolas finally backed down after staring at him angrily for several long moments. "I will ride to Dale," he said, "and do as you requested. But this is not the last that we will speak of this matter."

Thranduil sighed. "I wouldn't dare to let myself hope that it was." He gazed at Legolas, the stubborn determination in his eyes reminding him so much of his mother that it hurt. He felt the impulse to say something that might soften his son's feelings toward him, that might allow them to part on more friendly terms. But, as always, the words would not come.

Legolas regarded his father with steely eyes. Then, with a curt nod in his direction, he turned, headed for the door. He was already pulling it shut behind him when Thranduil finally found his voice again. "Safe travels," he managed, causing Legolas to pause, his eyes flickering back to the king.

"Thank you," he replied curtly, but Thranduil knew his son well enough to see that his small, friendly gesture had sufficed to prevent a greater rift between them. A small voice inside of him piped up to ask for how long he thought such gestures would be enough before Legolas would turn his back on him once and for all, but he commanded it to stay silent.

Immediately after the door feel shut behind his son, he emptied his wine glass, the liquid burning down his throat. Hopefully good wine would be part of deal which Legolas would negotiate with Bard – he had a feeling that he would be in dire need of it.

X-X-X-X-X-X

After their encounter with the spiders and wolves, Kíli and Tauriel made the decision that they would not continue their journey inside the forest, but head for its western border instead. It seemed that the further south they were traveling the more hostile Mirkwood became and Tauriel was unwilling to expose themselves to any more unnecessary dangers. Fighting spiders was one thing, but getting in the middle of quarrels between them and wolves or other species was simply too risky.

Oddly enough, Kíli seemed to be less willing to quit the forest than she was herself. It took her a few days to get him to tell her why that was and when he finally admitted that a part of him was still worried about that one surviving wolf, she found it hard to conceal her surprise.

As she had told Kíli before, she did not know much about the Mirkwood wolves. What she did know, however, was that they did not usually form bonds outside their own race. So when Kíli told her hesitantly of the connection he had felt with the wolf and that he thought the animal had reciprocated that feeling while they hiked through the forest together, she did not really know what to say.

Kíli frowned at her silence. "You think that I am completely mad."

She was unable to resist a tease. "Well, you might have hit your head during your fall, so you never know."

When he saw her grin, he scoffed. "Trust me, my head is hard enough to endure much worse."

"I have no doubt about that," she laughed. In a more serious tone, she added, "It's just that I have grown up with the sentiment that the wolves are better to be avoided."

"I believe you thought the same about dwarves, and look where you are now." To emphasize his point he took her hand in his, eliciting a sweet smile from her.

"You might have a point there," she said. "I just wondered if maybe—" She trailed off, not wanting to offend him with her thoughts.

"Maybe what? Just tell me." The look in his eyes told her that this was really something that occupied him.

She sighed. "Don't you think that maybe you only experienced this connection because you _wanted_ it to be there? Because you saw something in him that reminded you of your brother?"

Kíli took some time to digest this before giving a sigh. "I just miss him. Fíli, I mean. So much. Sometimes it feels as if he is still there, but then I remember he isn't. And those are the worst moments."

Tauriel stopped then and did not let go of his hand until he turned to face her. Putting her palm against his cheek she said, "You know that you can always talk to me about those feelings, don't you?"

Kíli turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist that sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine. "I do know that. Sometimes it's just easier to try and forget, at least for a moment."

Tauriel inclined her head to one side. "But do you ever, really?"

He sighed. "No, of course not. Still, what happened with the wolf does not have anything to do with me missing Fíli. That connection was there. I am sure of it."

Tauriel was not entirely convinced that Kíli wasn't so preoccupied with the wolf's fate because he felt that if he hadn't been able to save Fíli, he should at least save the animal that somehow reminded him of his brother. She was, however, willing to accept that some sort of communication had taken place between the wolf and the young dwarf. Stranger things had been known to occur and given the surprising abilities which Kíli had revealed as of late, she would not put it past him to be able to converse with a wolf.

Deciding not to debate the issue any further for now, she leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. "If that connection was there, then maybe you will get to find out about the wolf's fate at a later point in time. Now, however, you should focus on yourself, remember?"

"Not just on myself," he returned, "but on us, rather."

Tauriel smiled when he pulled her close once more for a longer, deeper kiss than the one they had shared before. "I wouldn't mind that at all," she whispered when they broke apart and she leaned her forehead against his.

"You were right, though," Kíli said as he reluctantly stepped away and took her hand in his. "We should get out of the forest or else we will keep running into new dangers."

"Trouble does have a way of finding us," she agreed, part of her yearning for those quiet, safe days at Tuilimbar, when it had just been the two of them and their ever growing affection for one another. "Come then. The western border should not be more than half a day's walk ahead."

They had traveled swiftly, but in the end even Tauriel herself was surprised by how close they had been to the edge of the forest already. Stepping out of the treeline, they were for a moment overwhelmed by the brightness of the early afternoon sun. Also, the change in temperature was hard to miss. Out here, there was no doubt that winter had truly passed and Tauriel allowed herself a moment where she simply soaked up the warmth of the sun.

Then it was time to assess their surroundings and get some idea of what their current location was. In the distance Tauriel could see the great river Anduin cutting through the planes between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood. She noticed that they had come rather far south already, for her keen eyes were able to discern the telltale yellow glow of the flowers which adorned the marshes also known as Gladden Fields.

Kíli followed her line of sight. "Should we find a way to travel downstream? We might reach our destination much faster."

Tauriel considered this for a moment. "I would prefer to stay close to the forest. The lands near the river are often frequented by orcs and goblins and since we have decided to stay out of harm's way for a bit, it might be better to be able to fall back to the cover which the forest can provide."

Kíli agreed with her, although she could tell that he was not entirely comfortable with the thought of turning his back on a fight. Well, she could not hold that against him for she, too, did not normally shy away from a confrontation. Seeing that there were just the two of them and that they were so far from home, however, she deemed this the wiser path for the time being.

And so they continued their journey south, keeping close enough to the forest to be able to seek cover inside it whenever necessary. For a change, they both enjoyed being under the open sky once more, and at night they would often lie beside each other and gaze at the stars and the moon together.

Not all their nights were spent with romantic stargazing, however. In the distance, closer to the river and in the shadows of the mountains which loomed over them, they would sometimes see the orange glow of campfires and wonder who it was that was traveling those lands. Friend or foe? Regardless of which, they tried to make themselves invisible as best as they could.

Tauriel was beginning to realize that during their time at Tuilimbar they had been so shielded from anything happening outside of Thranduil's realm that now that they had ventured outside of Mirkwood once more, they were a little lost as to what their place in the grander scheme of things would be. Could they really just keep to the woods and not take part in whatever was happening in the rest of the world? These past few months had been a necessary period of rest and healing for either of them, but in her heart she knew that they could not go on like this forever.

However, there was also the matter of Kíli's past – or rather his intended future – to consider. His true identity would have to remain a secret and this could best be achieved if they spent their days under Thranduil's reluctant protection.

Unless, of course, Kíli decided to return to his people after all and claim his rightful place on the throne. Many times, Tauriel found herself gazing at Kíli's face illuminated by the stars and the moon, wondering if that path was still an option for him. And while a powerful part of her panicked at the mere thought of it, another still hoped that one day he would find the strength to reunite with his friends and family.

Their discussion after getting involved in the fight between spiders and wolves had once more reminded her how strong his attachment to his family was and how gaping a hole not just the death of his brother and uncle but also his decision to leave everyone else behind had torn into his life. It was not as if she had ever forgotten about that, but given all the other things that had happened in the more recent past, she simply had not thought of it as a much as when they had initially arrived at Tuilimbar. Maybe she should have, though, for she still felt that for Kíli to find peace once more, he would have to face what – and more importantly, whom – he had left behind. What doing so would mean for the two of them was linked to so many hypotheticalities that Tauriel simply refused to think about it for the sake of her own sanity.

For now their path was blessedly clear – in the geographical sense at the very least. They planned to cross the river at the next opportunity that presented itself and Tauriel estimated that from there it would take them a mere couple of days to reach the woodland valley of Lothlórien. Whether she wanted to get there all that quickly or not, she was not sure of.

Her natural curiosity was of course stimulated by the prospect of meeting the Galadhrim and their Lord and Lady for she knew very little of their ways. This was, however, also causing her to feel slightly reluctant. How would they take to unannounced visitors - one of whom was a dwarf no less?

"Do you have any reason to think that they might feel hostile towards a dwarf in their midst?" Kíli asked her when she voiced her trepidations during one of those nights when they sat together, the sky so beautiful that it was hard to tear one's eyes away from it and the orange glow of campfires in the distance making sleep seem like a risk neither of them was willing to take.

"Not a particular reason, no," she answered, chewing her lip. After so many years as Thranduil's loyal subject, it was simply hard to imagine an elvish ruler _not_ hostile towards dwarves.

Sensing her nervousness about the whole matter, Kíli took her hand in his and pressed a reassuring kiss to her knuckles. "You should not worry yourself for my sake. It will be fine, you'll see."

She reached out to trace the edge of his jaw with her fingertip, enjoying, as she always did, the way that his beard scratched her tender skin. "You are not concerned at all, then?"

His grin was confident, which surprised her. Even after so many weeks in his company, she was still sometimes puzzled by how the smallest things could shake his faith in himself while at the same time he would walk into a possibly dangerous situation with his head held high and his optimism contagious.

"I have just spent months living in the kingdom of a king who despises my kind and I'm quite well, am I not?" he said, which made her laugh and caused the weight on her chest to instantly lift a little. He leaned his head into her palm when she cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss against the inside of her wrist. "What I am worried about is what I will learn about myself while we are there," he added, his eyes losing some of their mirth.

There it was again. From boisterous to insecure in a matter of seconds. Now, of course, it was _her_ turn to reassure _him_ just as he had tried to ease her fears before. It was a pattern they always seemed to be repeating, but Tauriel had yet to grow tired of it. It simply felt too good to have someone at her side who cared how she was feeling and to be allowed to look out for that person in return without fear of being rejected.

"Finding the answers you seek will give you a peace of mind like nothing else can," she promised, "you'll see."

Kíli did not say anything in return, but turned towards her more fully, his eyes vulnerable when they met hers. He blinked, and the vulnerability was gone, and all Tauriel could focus on now was the intoxicating scent of his skin as he leaned in closer and closer and the taste of his lips when they finally met hers.

xxxx

They reached the valley of Lothlórien on a morning that was colder and damper than the ones before. It seemed almost as if winter had decided that it was not quite ready yet to let go and give way to spring and was now staging its own comeback.

Stepping into the forest of the Galadhrim felt like stepping into a giant bubble. The gusts of icy wind and the dampness of the air were forgotten almost as soon as their feet touched the mossy ground below the majestic trees. The air was mild and fragrant and the sounds of the forest were accompanying their steps like the gentlest of symphonies.

Tauriel knew barely anything about magic in general and only little when it came to the magic of her own people. She did however recognize a spell when she walked right into it. And she thought that whoever had the means to cast a spell such as this – one that changed the air and the ground and everything around them – had to be very powerful indeed.

Kíli appeared to be thinking along the same lines and his eyes were wide with wonder as he took in their surroundings. "Do you think Galadriel did all this?"

"I don't know who else would have," she responded, not exactly surprised that Kíli, too, had picked up on the magic which surrounded them. He was always so perceptive when it came to things that were a little more than just natural. Awed and a little intimidated, she trailed her fingers across the smooth bark of the nearest tree. It felt supple and strong, full of life. Perpetual spring. Who wouldn't want to live forever in the fairest of all seasons?

"Maybe she really does have the answers I'm looking for." For once Kíli sounded at least a little intrigued by that prospect and not, as usually, terrified.

"It is said that she is the most powerful seer of our time and that she possesses knowledge of the past, the present and the future which no one else has. So yes, she might very well be able to give you some answers," Tauriel replied with a smile that was, she hoped, reassuring.

Kíli nodded, tensely, and then suddenly stopped walking, his gaze fixed on something that was out of Tauriel's line of sight. "If Galadriel knows all those things, then she probably already knows that we are coming, right?"

Tauriel turned to follow his gaze. From amongst the trees a group of people stepped forward, cloaked in grey. They were all taller than Tauriel herself, their hair fair and their faces noble. The warrior inside of her quickly assessed that they carried a multitude of weapons, but – and this was what mattered most – those weapons were not drawn and merely rested on their backs or at their sides. "I believe she does," Tauriel answered Kíli's question even as she lowered her head in greeting of the Galadhrim.

One of them stepped forward while the others looked on with curiosity shining in their eyes. That curiosity, unsurprisingly, was mostly directed at Kíli.

"Welcome," the elf who had stepped forward greeted them, her long silken hair falling over her shoulders as she lightly bowed her head without taking her eyes of the new arrivals. "I am Ingwen and I shall be your guide during your stay with us."

"I am Tauriel of the Woodland Realm," Tauriel introduced herself, "and this is Kíli." She wondered, briefly, if she should add something to his name that might explain who he was or why he was here, but what should she have said? Kíli, of the line of Durin, who is supposed to be King under the Mountain, but who would rather wander the woods with an elf at his side? If anything, that would inspire more skepticism. Also, she thought, if Galadriel was truly as all-knowing as the legend suggested, his true identity would not stay hidden for long, no matter what she said now.

Be that as it may, Ingwen appeared to be quite satisfied with the introduction for she nodded politely. "Follow me then, and I shall take you to Caras Galadhon." She paused and Tauriel noticed her eyes skim across the weapons which she and Kíli carried, deliberating, no doubt, whether she should ask them to hand them over. The fact that she decided against it and said nothing, caused Tauriel to experience a surge of appreciation for the character of the elf whom she did not know in the least. A decision like this, she knew from experience, demanded a large amount of trust and courage.

Ingwen turned and started walking south without further ado. Kíli and Tauriel exchanged a quick glance before falling into step behind her. This was what they had come for, so why not proceed to their final destination directly?

Ingwen's companions, Tauriel noticed, walked in a loose circle behind their leader, thereby surrounding Kíli and herself. She did not enjoy the slight feelings of entrapment that this roused in her, but of course she understood that the unfamiliar Elves would feel the need to remain at least a little bit cautious.

While they walked, Tauriel tried to listen to the low conversations their traveling companions exchanged from time to time. She was, however, not really able to grasp an awful lot of what they were saying. They spoke Sindarin, but apparently some dialect that made her own language sound surprisingly foreign.

A lot of what they were saying seemed to revolve around the dwarf in their midst. Tauriel concluded that some members of Ingwen's squad were mostly curious about Kíli and his heritage while others were more skeptical about bringing a dwarf into their sacred homeland, the same prejudices which Tauriel had grown up with darkening their hearts.

She risked a glance at Kíli and saw that he, too, was trying to listen to the whispered discussions. He would certainly understand even less of what the Galadhrim were saying, but Tauriel knew that he would pick up on the Sindarin words for dwarf – _hadhod_ and the less respectful _naug_ – which both featured quite heavily in the Elves' conversations.

As she watched the lines around his mouth harden, Tauriel felt a surge of frustration course through her. Were they really doomed to encounter nothing but prejudice and ill will wherever they went when they had never done anything but fight for the good in this world?

Impulsively, she reached for Kíli's hand and held onto it tightly as they walked, not caring in the least bit who saw and what they would make of this. Kíli looked at her in surprise, but returned the pressure of her hand without hesitation. That, and the fact that the lines on his face softened to be replaced by that gentle smile which was reserved only for her, made any spectacle they might be causing worth a thousand times.

 _tbc..._

 _A/N: I felt like there are some issues that needed to be addressed before I can proceed with my story - sorry if that means that there is not an awful lot of action in this chapter. The plot will thicken in the chapters to come, I promise. As always, thank you for your invaluable feedback!_


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: I'm posting this as two chapters, since I couldn't fit it all into one. Hope you enjoy - there's quite a lot of stuff happening here._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their characters. Some snippets of dialogue in this chapter have been taken from the movie version of "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring"._

 **Chapter 28**

The journey through the woods of Lothlórien passed by in a bit of a haze. Sometimes Kíli felt almost as if he were floating above his own body, watching their traveling party's progress through unknown lands. The sensation was, however, quite different from what he remembered of his first visit to Mirkwood. There, he had felt confused to the extent that it had made him angry and irrational, now it was more as if the sheer beauty of the world around him kept lulling him into a (false?) sense of security.

It seemed that with every step he took the world they had left behind fell away a little bit more, the sorrows and worries that had plagued him not much more than distant memories. He tried to tell himself to keep his mind sharp, but it was so difficult to stay focused when the air was rich with the aromas of a forest in spring and when the rays of sunlight kept making such pretty patterns on the ground wherever they made it through the foliage up above.

He was relieved to find that this curious daze lifted somewhat when they reached the city of the Elves. It was nighttime when they arrived and they had been able to see the shimmer of lights through the trees for a good long while since apparently the only entrance to Caras Galadhon lay in the south, making it necessary to circle the city before eventually entering it.

With each step Kíli's curiosity grew – so far his impression of Lothlórien had been rather bewitching and he could not help but wonder what its capital might achieve if the woods had already had such a profound effect on him. He was not disappointed.

From what he could tell, the city had been built into the giant trees, long, winding stairways climbing up, up, up into the treetops with platforms of various sizes floating impossibly high above their heads. Despite the lateness of the hour, life in the city was busy while at the same time a powerful sense of calm lay over the whole place. Kíli discerned the sounds of music and voices, all of them so pleasant that he could not help but feel drawn to them, curious as to where they came from.

He only realized that he had stopped walking when Tauriel gently tugged on his hand. He looked up to see her smile at him, his own excitement mirrored in her face even though she managed not look quite as overwhelmed as he felt.

Their guide did not turn to see if they were still following and so, after another awed stare at the tree houses up above, Kíli and Tauriel hurried to catch up with her. During their journey they had not spoken much to the Elves accompanying them and any conversation that had taken place had been done by Tauriel. Now, however, Kíli could no longer suppress his need to bring up a few things. He wanted – _needed –_ to know what he was walking into.

"So Galadriel is already expecting us?" he asked Ingwen once he was close enough to not have to shout.

The elf inclined her head. "From what I know she knew you would come for some time now." Something akin to a smirk grazed her lips. "If she had not, you might have found your welcome to the lands of Lothlórien not quite as friendly as you did. It has been a long time since a dwarf has walked among the Mallorn trees."

Kíli did not quite know what to do with this piece of information. It was good, he supposed, that they had not come entirely unannounced, but at the same time Galadriel's apparent powers made him slightly uneasy to meet her. And what was that about dwarves in Lothlórien? It was not a surprise that most elves were not exactly fond of his own people, but Ingwen's remark made it sound almost as if, at some point in the past, the Galadhrim and the dwarves had been on friendly terms with each other.

Either way, Ingwen did not seem to expect him to say anything in return. Instead, she continued to lead them into the city. Kíli noticed that they were however not headed for its center, but seemed to walk along its outskirts. He could sense rather than see the uninhabited parts of the forest outside the wall which encircled the city, quiet, dark, empty. In any other place this might have been unsettling, but here it wasn't. It was hard to imagine anything threatening or dangerous lurking in the darkness – anywhere in Lothlórien for that matter.

When Ingwen guided them to a sizeable tent that was nestled between the roots of one of the giant trees – _Mallorn_ the elf had called them – and told them that this was to be their abode during their stay, Kíli felt a curious mixture of relief and disappointment. He did prefer to stay close to the ground to sleeping in dizzying heights, but at the same time he would have loved for himself and Tauriel to spend the night closer still to the stars she held so dear.

"Refreshments will be brought to you within the hour," Ingwen informed them. "Other than that, should you lack any comforts, send for me. I shall leave you now, for the time being."

She gave a small bow which Tauriel returned. Kíli didn't because he felt sure that he would look quite foolish if he did. There was, however, one question which burned on his tongue.

"When will we brought before the Lady Galadriel?" He would have hated to be surprised by this meeting. There was nothing he could do to prepare for it, he knew that, but still he felt that at the very least he needed to know _when_ it was to take place.

Ingwen's face was blank. "I have no instructions regarding that matter." Then, less coldly but not much more helpful, she added, "You will know when it is time. Until then, rest."

And with that she disappeared, her companions trailing behind her. Kíli and Tauriel turned to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Do you think we can trust them?" Kíli asked. His body suddenly felt quite fatigued, the long journey and the lateness of the hour finally catching up with him, and a good night's sleep sounded rather alluring.

He watched Tauriel debate the issue in her mind and was relieved when she concluded, "They have no reason to harm us. And even if they did, they would have done so already."

Kíli held out his hand to her. She, too, looked like she craved some rest, even if the signs of fatigue were far more subtle in her case. "Join me, then?"

After such a long time on the road where one – or both – of them had always had to stay alert, simply lying down together sounded just about divine. Still, Kíli would not have been surprised should Tauriel have offered to keep watch while he rested – had he not been quite certain that he would fall asleep sitting up, he might even have considered offering doing just that. As it was, his heart gave a happy little flutter when her eyes softened and she reached out to curl her fingers around his, her cheeks slightly pink as she nodded her consent.

As they ducked into the entrance of the tent, their faces warm and both of them a little breathless, Kíli suddenly found that sleep was not quite as far up in his list of priorities as it had been just moments ago. Oh well. He supposed that he could stay awake a little while longer after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It felt strange to once more have a roof over their heads which separated them from the night sky as they lay curled up around each other, Tauriel's head resting on Kíli's bare chest while his arm was looped around her shoulder, his fingers playing idly with the strands of her impossibly silky hair.

The tent, it turned out, was far more comfortable than any tent Kíli had ever slept in. Mahal, probably even more comfortable than most of the bedrooms he'd seen the inside of over the course of his life. Then again, that was hardly a surprise. When traveling, dwarves usually just brought what was absolutely necessary; even such a simple thing as a tarp to sleep under would have been regarded as excessive luxury. And as for his life in Ered Luin... It had been relatively simple, too, a narrow cot in a small room which he had shared with his brother the only bed he could remember.

When he had still been quite young, he had sometimes bristled at the fact that everyone would always talk of how he and Fíli were princes when his life was so modest and not at all how he imagined his royal ancestors had lived. Thorin and Dís had smiled at his adolescent indignation, but there had always been something else in their eyes, a sadness, maybe, and longing. So much longing.

Only now, that he had seen the kingdom of Erebor himself and had gotten an inkling of its former grandeur did he understand both that longing and the reason why he had grown up in such bleak circumstances. Having watched their home, that most glorious of all Dwarven settlements, being ripped from them, Thorin and his sister clearly had not had the heart to even attempt creating a place for themselves in the image of the royal halls of Erebor. They must have known, as Kíli did now, that such a place would always fall painfully short of the original and had thus chosen a plain life over one of abundance.

As he had grown up, Kíli had been grateful for their choice and for the way he and Fíli had been raised. That way, even if they had never seen Erebor with their own eyes, they had been able to develop a passion for reclaiming the homeland of their people, for restoring wealth and glory to the line of Durin, that they might not have found in their hearts had they grown up with more comforts and riches.

Still, he was not above enjoying cushions as soft as the ones which he was currently resting on, nor did the luxurious fabrics of the blankets Tauriel had covered them both in fail to elicit a soft, content sigh from his lips. Experience had taught him to always remain cautious, but he allowed himself the thought that, for a change, they were in a good place, both literally and figuratively.

With Tauriel's head tucked under his chin, the scent of her hair filling him to the brink with happiness, he wondered, once more, how what they had come here to do would affect him, them, their place in the world. He soon found, though, that he was simply too tired to follow his mind down the endless paths it kept creating, and too blissfully relaxed to work himself into a state of unrest. Instead, he welcomed sleep in a way he had not done for quite some time, drifting into oblivion without the sense of imminent danger pricking at the back of his skull.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _Come, then_.

Kíli awoke, not with a start exactly, but still quite suddenly, his mind going from complete idleness to full alertness within seconds. He sat up, straining both ears and eyes for a sign of what had woken him. It was dark, still, but since the city was always illuminated at nighttime, there was plenty of light to be able to see.

Their tent was empty and everything seemed in exactly the same place they had left it in before going to sleep on their third night in Caras Galadhon. A slight weight across his stomach made him gaze down and he noticed that Tauriel was quite deeply asleep, a state he now knew was not impossible for her to reach, but just something that she did not very often feel the need for. He considered waking her, but since he sensed no imminent danger whatsoever, he deemed it quite unnecessary to disturb her. Also, he was not entirely sure if he was really awake himself, or if maybe this was a strange, rather uneventful dream.

That was when he felt a tug in his chest, an overwhelming desire to get up and leave the tent building in him until he could stand it no longer and carefully untangled himself from his sleeping lover. Careful not to make any noise he pulled his tunic over his head and stepped into his trousers before slipping out of the tent and into the night. As he lifted his head to gaze at the sky visible through the treetops, he noted that it had to be close to dawn. The air was cool, but not enough to make him shiver and he ground felt slightly damp and pleasantly soft beneath his bare feet.

The pressure inside of him had eased upon exiting their tent, but it was still there, still urging him to move. This was quite unusual and more than a little unsettling – he _should_ wake Tauriel, after all, and tell her what was happening.

 _Come, then. You are quite safe_.

The fact that there was a voice in his head that was not his own should have sent him into a right state of panic, but instead he felt a powerful sense of calm wash over him. Yes. He was safe. And before he knew it, his feet had begun to move, choosing his path for him without him having to think about it at all.

Surely, this was just a dream. And since nothing about it reminded him of the nightmares which still plagued him more often than he was prepared to admit, he decided to simply follow along with it and see where it would take him.

As he walked among the Mallorn trees, the sounds of the city – soft music, low voices, occasional laughter even at this time of night – grew more and more distant until all he could hear were the sounds of the forest itself. He could not tell exactly for how long he had walked when he came upon a narrow set of steps, made of stone and more ancient than anything he had seen so far in this city of the Elves.

He could not see where the curved stairway led, but, driven by that same blind trust that had touched him before, he began his slow descend, the stone smooth and cold beneath the soles of his feet. Distracted by his unusual surroundings, Kíli soon lost count of his steps, but when he paused to gaze up at a statue looming over him, he thought that he had to have climbed down at least 50 steps already and he still could not see his destination. Rounding a corner, he finally saw the stairs merge into a small clearing.

The air was slightly colder down here and he involuntarily crossed his arms in front of his chest as he gazed around. In the centre of the clearing stood a pedestal made of stone and overgrown by moss and vines. On top of it, a rather flat, round object rested. A basin of some sort. It was empty, but somewhere to his right he could hear the trickling sound of water, and for some reason he just knew that the basin needed – _wanted_ – to be filled with it.

 _Will you come look inside the mirror?_ The voice in his head spoke up once again, causing him to give a slight start. Still, he was not afraid.

"What will I see when I do?" he asked as he slowly crossed over to the pedestal, feeling a bit silly to be talking out loud to a voice only he could hear.

"I cannot tell you for certain." This time, he started more visibly, drawing a sharp breath into his lungs. The voice was suddenly not inside his head anymore, but came from a tall, blond elf-woman who had suddenly appeared on the other side of the pedestal. Galadriel, without the shadow of a doubt. She was… unlike any creature Kíli had ever laid eyes upon. Beautiful beyond measure. Her beauty, however, was not the kind you absorbed and delighted in. Kíli found himself thinking that it _hurt_ to look at her in the same way that looking at the sun for too long scorched your eyes.

He pulled his gaze away from her face and looked at her hands instead. In them, she held a silver flagon from which she proceeded to slowly pour water into the basin. "The mirror may show many different things to the person who gazes into it. Things that were… things that are… and some things," she emptied the last of the water into the basin "that have not yet come to pass."

The past, the present, and the future. Kíli frowned. "How could something that has not even happened yet, explain why I am—" he paused, wondering if he needed to elaborate on the reason why he had come here. He concluded that he did not, seeing as Galadriel would not have summoned him if she did not already know his intentions. "Why I am what I am," he finished, not entirely happy with his lack of eloquence there.

"The answers which the mirror holds are not always easy to decipher, nor do they always please the one who asks the question," the powerful she-elf replied, her expression friendly, but detached. "Will you look nevertheless?"

Kíli hesitated. Seeking truth from a basin filled with water was most definitely something his kinsmen would have deemed Elven sorcery and thus a thing not to be trusted. Then again, he had always known that the reason for their journey to Lothlórien were precisely those particular powers of Galadriel. So, in a way, it was already too late to turn back anyway.

Exhaling slowly, he stepped forward until he stood right before the stone pedestal. He was glad to find that he was able to comfortably bend over the basin and look inside without having to ask for a stool or something – that would have been quite humiliating. He gripped the edges of the basin to steady his suddenly shaky hands and lifted his eyes to gaze at the smooth surface of the water.

 _To be continued..._


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

At first Kíli only saw himself. Or at least he was almost entirely sure that the face in the mirror belonged to him. He was not a vain person, but even by his standards a long time had passed without him ever properly looking at his own reflection. Could he really have changed that much?

His hair was longer than he recalled ever wearing it, the dark strands framing his face. The contours of his cheekbones and jaw seemed somehow sharper than he remembered, lending his face the kind of chiseled features he had always secretly admired in Thorin. Following a sudden, silly, impulse he turned his head slightly in order to peek at his ears, just to make sure that they had not grown pointy due to all the time he spent in Elven company nowadays, not even to mention those strange abilities he suddenly possessed. He was relieved to find them looking just the same as always.

He already feared that the mirror was not working for him, that he was somehow unworthy of Galadriel's magic, when his reflection began to blur. There was only darkness to begin with, but then he started to see shapes moving around in it. He brought his face even closer and heard a strange sound, like the howling of wind but somehow metallic. A shiver ran down his spine. He could not identify the noise, but he knew that he had heard it before, somewhere, and it scared him. Badly.

Later, he would not be able to explain what had happened next – one minute he had been looking into the water basin from above and the next minute it felt as if he were inside of it, watching the things that the mirror showed him unfold around him through his own pair of eyes. He found himself in a barren landscape, the earth beneath him not just dry, but scorched. He was lying on the ground, struggling to get up against a fierce storm raging around him. The air was filled with earth, dust, and dry leaves that were whipped around by the wind, making it hard to see.

He heard his own voice call out, searching for any clue as to where he was, calling for help, begging for that terrible, ear-piercing noise to finally subside. Since he could not get up, he proceeded to crawl on the ground instead, his hands searching half blindly for something, anything, to hold onto.

A cold feeling of dread settled somewhere in Kíli's stomach at what the mirror was showing him. He had seen this before, experienced this before. But where? In a dream? Surely, if he had ever been in a place as horrid as this he would remember it, wouldn't he?

Eventually, he was able to discern a shape in the distance, just a lump lying on the ground, really. As he edged closer, he saw that it was a person, their back turned toward him. A little closer still, and there was no doubt in his mind as to who it was. He was scrambling towards the body even before the name left his lips. _Fíli_.

As he watched his own shaky hand reach out to touch his brother's shoulder and turn him onto his back, Kíli expected to gaze into empty eyes and steeled himself against the pain that this would invariably bring him. As Fíli rolled over, however, the blue eyes into which Kíli stared were anything but dead. Filled with fear and pain, yes. But not dead.

"Kíli," the blonde dwarf gasped, his eyes widening with a wild mix of emotions.

Before Kíli had time to identify them, he had already pulled his brother close against his chest, hugging him fiercely. "I don't understand," he said, his voice raspy to his own ears. "Where are we?"

Yes, where were they? While Kíli watched the images the mirror was showing him, he was desperately trying to place them. When had this happened? For it had to be a memory of some sort. Fíli was alive in it and so it couldn't be a vision of the future, could it?

"I cannot say _where_ we are," the Fíli in Galadriel's mirror said, "but if we are both here, I think it means we did not survive the battle. Wherever this is... we've moved on to someplace else, brother."

Fíli's eyes were filled with tears when he spoke those words and when Kíli heard his own voice reply it sounded rather choked as well. "We can't be, no. If we were, shouldn't we be someplace _good_? This—" he gazed around at their dreary surroundings, the whirring of the wind still unnervingly loud in his ears, "–this is terrible. That cannot be right."

His brother smiled weakly, in the same way that he always would when he tried to keep his own spirits up for his brother's sake even if things went from bad to worse. "But at least we're together, right?"

The Kíli that was watching this conversation in the mirror of the Elven sorceress wanted nothing more than to reach out to Fíli, to hold him, and to tell him that he would never let him go. However, he had no control over what was happening and was merely a witness to his own, apparently forgotten memory. The realization made it hard to breathe, but Kíli was quite sure now that this was what had happened to him after Bolg had pierced him with his blade. That he had gone on, somehow, to another place, a terrifying place, and that Fíli had been there with him.

His former self clearly was as shocked by this as his current self. "Fíli, we cannot stay here," he heard himself say. "There has to be a way out, something, _anything_ we can do."

He grabbed Fíli under his armpit, trying to hoist him upright, but his brother covered his hand with his own, shaking his head, that same, sad smile still on his lips. "I don't think I can get up, Kili. Besides, there is nowhere to go, no one to fight."

"You do not know that. You haven't even _tried_." Kíli's voice was beginning to sound desperate.

Tears were beginning to blur his vision, but before they had the chance to fall, he heard something other than the roaring of the wind, a whisper that was carried to him over all the other noise. " _Come to me_."

He whipped his head around in search of the origin of the voice he had just heard, but saw nothing. "What was that?" he asked his brother, and then, more loudly, "Who's there?"

Fíli looked up at him in confusion. "I didn't hear anything." He studied his face for a moment. "Kíli, I'm so tired."

He most certainly looked like it. It occurred to Kíli that with every minute they spent in this hellish place, their strength dwindled, as if life itself was being sucked out of them. The dark shadows beginning to form under his brother's eyes seemed a valid proof of this theory.

"That's it. We are getting out of here." His voice was determined, but his hands were shaking as he grabbed his brother once more and pulled his right arm over his shoulder in order to support as much of his weight as possible. Together they stood up, swaying both from the sheer effort and the fierce wind which kept pulling at their clothes and their hair as if it wanted to rip them off.

They staggered a few steps into a random direction, Kíli using his free arm to shield his eyes against the storm. If anything, the storm was getting worse with each step they took, slowing them down even further, and eventually Fíli stopped walking altogether.

"There's no use," he said dejectedly, having to raise his voice in order for Kíli to be able to hear him still. He turned towards his younger brother and lifted his hands to cup either side of Kíli's face, looking at him intently. "If you see a chance to save yourself, take it, I beg you. It's too late for me I'm afraid."

Kíli did not even hesitate a second before he shook his head vehemently, wrapping his hands around Fíli's wrists. "I am not leaving you, not now, not ever. You belong with me, remember?"

His brother's eyes softened at the recollection of the words he had spat at their uncle when Thorin had suggested that the brothers should separate in Laketown. "And a part of me will always be with you," he said, his voice strained with emotion. "But I cannot go on – It's over, Kíli. For me at least."

Kíli's hands tightened around Fíli's forearms, bruising his skin. "No!" he half cried, half sobbed, and before Fíli had any chance to protest, the younger brother had lifted him onto his back, headed for what could only be the eye of the storm. "I will carry you if I must!" he exclaimed, again echoing words of the past.

Dawing strength from his own stubbornness, Kíli kept up a steady pace, even when he could see nothing much except for his own feet as he continued to place one foot in front of the other again, and again, and again. The noise of the storm was all he could hear, a deafening roar that made it impossible to think, much less to speak. But even in those extreme conditions, he could hear the voice that had called out to him before, heard it inside his head, felt its pull with increasing distinctness. _Come to me_.

It was impossible to say for how long they kept going like this, but eventually Kíli's knees buckled under him and he felt his body hit the ground. He was now blinded entirely by the storm and the only thing that helped him not to lose all sense of himself was the weight of his brother on top of him and he held onto Fíli with what little strength he had left. Maybe Fíli had been right after all. Maybe this was the end, for both of them.

Then, suddenly, the world around them went still. Kíli was afraid to open his eyes, afraid that if he did, he might find himself in a place that was even worse. A place from which there would be no return.

"Open your eyes," a gentle voice, quite nearby, said. "I mean you no harm."

He blinked, the world around him slowly coming into focus. He was lying on his back, his brother's head resting on his chest. Leaning over him was a slender figure, long, dark tresses framing an impossibly beautiful face. Kíli, as he stared into the mirror of Galadriel, recognized her at once. It was Faerveren. Standing behind her, his gaze watchful but not unfriendly, was another person who he knew had to be Iondaer.

This was it, Kíli realized. The reason why during their time at Tuilimbar he had felt a closeness to its former owners that could not be explained rationally – he had met them before, in this strange place between life and death, but had forgotten all about it upon his return to the land of the living. Again he wished he could play an active part in what he was witnessing, wished he could tell Faerveren that he knew her and let her know how much the letters she had left behind meant to him, to Tauriel. As it was, his former self remained silent, staring at the she-elf and her mate in wonder.

Faerveren smiled and reached out to brush her hand against his cheek. "Someone has come for you," she said. "But you must hurry. We are trying our best to buy you a little time, but our strength is fading fast."

Kíli looked around and saw that the storm was still raging at a little distance from where they were, almost as if they had been wrapped up in a protective bubble. And there, a few steps to their right, stood a large, crooked tree, its branches drooping so low that they almost brushed the dry earth below. There was something odd about its trunk and Kíli stained his eyes to see what it was. A hollow among the massive roots, he thought, and the soft shimmer of a bright light from within.

He looked back at Faerveren. "What do I need to do?"

"Just go." Indicating the direction of the tree with her hand, she smiled a wistful smile. "Go and live. But before you do, I ask you to take something of us with you."

Kíli looked at her empty hands. "Take what?" he asked, sounding confused.

Faerveren's smile widened. "It's not something you can carry in your hands, but in your heart, your soul, your very essence instead." And with that she leaned down and touched her forehead to his. For the briefest of moments Kíli felt embraced by the brightest of lights, blinding his eyes and permeating every cell of his body. Then it was over and he was staring into the she-elf's face once more. "Take this gift back to the one who is waiting for you. The day will come when you shall use it to save her as she has saved you."

"I don't understand," he began, but was cut off by Iondaer's voice.

"Go, now. Our protection will not hold much longer and then your chance might be lost."

Kíli nodded and started to reach for his brother who appeared to have been unconscious this whole time. Faerveren stilled his movement with a hand on his arm. "I fear that he will not be allowed to pass through." Her face showed nothing but compassion and sadness. "Leave him with us or else you might not reach the passage in time."

"No!" Kíli shot back with grim determination. "Where I go, he goes." And with that he bent down to lift Fíli onto his shoulders, his knees nearly buckling under the full weight of his brother.

Faerveren gazed at him with pity in her eyes. She made to say something in return, but was stopped by Iondaer's hand on her shoulder. "It is his choice, my love," he said. "I would not give up on you, either, no matter how hopeless the circumstances."

Covering her hand with his, Faerveren turned her head to smile at her husband. The prospect of death did not appear to terrify her – why would it have, Kíli figured, when the man she had loved for centuries was at her side even now. Turning to Kíli once more, her face grew serious again. "Hurry now," she said, her voice urgent. And then, more gently, "She is waiting for you."

Kíli's heart clenched. It was Tauriel she spoke of, clearly, Tauriel who had at this point in time been grieving for him, her heart broken over his death. He wanted nothing more than to be with her then, to begin picking up the pieces of themselves, of their relationship, of their lives after the great battle that had changed everything. He would have liked to assure his past self that it was true, that she was waiting for him on the other side of wherever he was now, and that it was worth the struggle he had to face in order to get to her. If only... If only he didn't know what would have to happen first. That in order for his past self to return to the living he would have to lose his brother forever.

Knowing what was about to happen did not make it less painful to witness himself carrying the heavy weight of his brother across the scorched earth towards the mysterious light at the base of the tree, Faerveren and Iondaer watching them anxiously. As they got closer to their destination, Kíli noticed that the wind was picking up in strength once more. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Faerveren was now leaning heavily on Iondaer for support. Well, she had warned him that their protection would not hold much longer, hadn't she?

He only had a couple more steps to go, but suddenly it seemed as if every step took forever, and Kíli did not know if it was his own strength that was failing him or the hostile environment working against him. A misplaced step and he was on his knees, his brother's body half sliding off his shoulders. Fíli stirred.

"Kíli?" he said groggily. "What is happening?"

"Don't worry," Kíli forced out through clenched teeth, "I'm getting us out of here. We're almost there."

The storm was now raging so badly once more that the tree was only a vague, looming shape. Kíli blindly reached out a hand. Only a few more inches, he thought, and he should be able to hold onto it. "Stay close to me and don't let go," he commanded his brother, closing his free hand around Fíli's fingers in an iron grip.

It felt as if the earth beneath them was beginning to dissolve under the force of the wind and Kíli began to fear that the ground would simply swallow them and plunge them into eternal darkness. But then, suddenly, his finger's touched a dry, rough surface and he ran them over it until he found a secure grip on what had to be a tree root. "Hold on tight, now," he yelled as he used all his strength to drag both himself and Fíli across the ground, getting them closer and closer to whatever the source of the bright light at the tree's core was.

And then, finally, Kíli felt himself be enveloped by this light, the power it contained soothing all ailments, erasing all fears. Fíli's fingers were still entwined with his and he turned to smile at his brother who was looking at him in wonder. See, I told you I could do it, he wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat when Fíli's expression turned fearful once more, his mouth opening in a silent cry. His grip on Kíli's hand loosened very suddenly and before Kíli knew it he had lost his hold onto his brother.

"No!" he screamed, reaching out in panic, but his fingers only found empty air were Fíli had just been. And just like that, without a word, without a chance to say goodbye, his brother was gone and the light around him continued to grow brighter and brighter until he was forced to close his eyes.

Suddenly Kíli was back to his present self, staring at his own reflection in Galadriel's mirror. He was not surprised to see that tears were running down his cheeks, dripping onto the water's surface. Unable to stand the look of guilt and bereavement in his own eyes, Kíli drew a shuddering breath and pushed himself away from the basin rather forcefully, stumbling back a few steps. Still breathing hard, he looked up to find Galadriel gazing at him from the other side of the pedestal, her expression fairly impossible to read.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked him, the melodic quality of her voice helping him to calm his agitated breathing a little.

"Didn't you see what I saw?" He still felt rather disoriented from the whole experience, unable to quite wrap his head around what he had just seen.

 _I can only see its echoes in your mind._

Under different circumstances, hearing the elf's voice in his head might have unsettled Kíli, but given the things he had just seen, he barely flinched. Instead of a reply, he tried to open his mind to her, allowing her to flip through the images he had seen in her mirror as if she were looking at an open book.

Her eyes grew distant for a few moments while she perused his memories. When her gaze cleared once more, Kíli found in it a fair amount of awe. "What has happened to you is quite—" she paused, searching for the right word, " _extraordinary._ I could sense some of it the moment you walked onto our lands, but still I confess myself to be surprised by the full extent of your adventures."

Kíli drew a deep breath, preparing himself to ask the question that had troubled him for so long. "But would you say that what has happened to me is in any way... bad? Have I come back wrong?"

At this she quickly stepped around the stone pedestal, coming to stand right in front of him. Her expression softened as she looked down at him. "Oh no, Kíli, there is nothing wrong with you." Her perfect face hardened a little as she glanced at the mirror. "Thranduil tapped into some very powerful magic I did not know he was capable of when he saved you, and I am not sure I approve of him interfering in the balance of things in such a way." Her eyes found his again. "But you had no hand in this and remain unaffected by it."

Despite the heaviness in his heart over watching his brother being taken from him all over again, Kíli felt an enormous weight being lifted from his shoulders. He really was the same then, as he had always been, no part of him altered or lost in his brush with death. Except, of course, with one addition to his self – Faerveren's gift of healing.

"Have you ever heard of someone else being passed on the ability to heal?" he asked Galadriel.

She shook her head. "I have not. But it is not every day that you meet someone who was quite as far gone as you were and survived. So maybe that is no surprise. I take it you were able to put the Mirkwood healer's gift to use in the manner which she suggested?"

Kíli took a moment to process this, all the new information he had gathered from the mirror still overwhelming him. "I– I did," he finally said, his mind putting together the things Faerveren had said to him and what had happened over the course of the last couple of months. "I saved her. Tauriel almost died, but I saved her."

It was the first time that he fully acknowledged that fact. While Tauriel had been adamant that it had been him who had healed her when she was bitten by that spider, a part of him had remained unconvinced, thinking that it could not have been him who had wielded such power. Now it felt strangely good to know that he had been able to do this for her after she had saved him countless of times and even more so that Faerveren's dying wish had been fulfilled in the process.

Which left him with one question. "But what should I do now? Faerveren meant for me to save Tauriel and I did, but beyond that… surely I cannot simply return her gift to her?"

Galadriel smiled indulgently. "No, I believe you cannot. The gift of healing, so gracefully bestowed upon you, will forever be a part of yourself. You should try to honor the one who gave it to you by using it wisely." When he looked slightly intimidated by the prospect she added, "In the meantime I suggest you do as Faerveren suggested – _live_."

Kíli lowered his gaze. He did not know exactly what it was, but something about this excessively powerful elf made him drop all his barriers, made him voice all those things that often lingered in his mind. "There are days when I am not quite sure I still know how to do that properly," he confessed, thinking of the large abyss inside of himself he would threaten to drown in whenever he thought of his brother, his uncle, and all the terrible things that had come to pass.

"Oh but you do," Galadriel returned without hesitation and Kíli looked up in surprise to find her face illuminated by a warm smile. "As long as you are able to love, you will never forget how to live. And I can see that you are full of love – don't deny yourself the happiness which love can bring you because you feel that you do not deserve it."

Kíli considered this for a moment. He could not deny the truth in Galadriel's words – while he had stopped pretending that he and Tauriel were better off being nothing but friends a long time ago, he knew deep down that he was still holding himself back more often than not, that he was capable of giving her more. That she deserved more. And he did, too.

He looked up at Galadriel . "I won't," he said sincerely. "Not anymore."

"I wish you well then," she returned, her smile unwavering.

Kíli took this as his cue to leave. Surely a ruler as powerful as her had other things to do aside from counseling a dwarf on his private affairs. He gave a little bow. "Thank you for your invaluable advice, mylady." Never the greatest with words, he hoped that Galadriel would see inside his mind how much of a service she had just done him, doing away once and for all with that nagging voice of doubt at the back of his head.

She acknowledged his thanks with a slight incline of her fair head. Before he could fully turn to leave, however, she stopped him once more. _Wait,_ he heard her voice echo in his head, _I, too, have a gift_ _for you._

Kíli tensed. Surely she would not want to share any of _her_ powers with him, would she? Faerveren's gift of healing was already more than he could handle at times and he so did not want to become a mind reader of sorts. When Galadriel stepped closer and held out her hand, dropping two small objects into the palm he automatically held out, he relaxed.

Lifting his hand closer to his face to examine her gift, he was surprised to find two rings, narrow bands made of the smoothest, most polished gold he had ever seen. They were stunningly beautiful in their simplicity.

Not knowing at all what to say to that, he lifted his eyes to look back up at Galadriel who smiled at his apparent confusion. "Amongst my people, a couple is given silver rings for their betrothal. After a period of a year or more they are formally wed, exchanging the silver rings for gold ones." She paused while Kíli's mind was still trying to catch up with what she was implying. "I believe you and your Tauriel have already anticipated most of the steps which constitute a wedding as we practice it. Hence the rings."

When Kíli still did not say anything, but continued to gape at her, his cheeks suddenly having grown quite warm, she added, "Sometimes it helps to give a name to something which otherwise we cannot express in words."

He understood then what she was trying to say. A symbol to themselves and to the outside world that even if things became rough, they knew exactly were they stood with each other and that nothing would ever tear them apart again – that was what those rings could be. He reverently ran the tip of his forefinger along the rim of the smaller of the two gold bands. "So that is all? Wearing the rings makes us–" his breath hitched in his throat at actually saying the words aloud, "husband and wife?"

"Your love for each other is what makes you such," Galadriel corrected him gently. "But yes, your consent to be married along with the symbol of the rings will suffice. You could exchange vows in front of witnesses if you wanted to, but it is no formal requirement."

Thoughts were running wild in Kíli's mind. It was true what she had said, though – he and Tauriel already were bonded to each other for life and exchanging the rings would merely mean giving a new name to something they already had. Still, the notion caused a rush of feelings inside of him, warm as well as nervous.

Setting those aside for later examination, he asked the other question that was burning on his tongue. "Why are you doing this for me? For us?" While he had not been met with as much hostility towards dwarves in Lothlórien as he had upon his initial arrival in Mirkwood, he was quite astonished that Galadriel would support a union between an elf and a dwarf.

"I fear that dark times lie ahead for all peoples of Middle Earth," she replied, her smile faltering for a moment as her gaze turned inward, seeing things which were beyond Kíli's grasp. A shudder seemed to run through her, but then she composed herself and closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were clear, and her gentle smile returned. "As long as there is light and love to be found, I will not stand in its way, no matter how unconventional it may be."

Kíli studied her for a long moment, completely in awe of this very powerful being. He would not have wanted to trade places with her for anything in the world – whatever it was that she saw the future holding in store for them all, he was glad that he did not have to carry the burden of knowing. "Thank you, again," he said, bowing more deeply than he had before.

When she did not say anything else, he finally did turn to leave, slipping the two rings she had given him into his pocket before he began his ascend back up the stone steps he had come down earlier. When he cast a final glance at Galadriel, he saw her leaning over the mirror herself, the expression on her face intense but, to him, indecipherable. He turned and focused his attention on the path that lay ahead of him instead, the conversation he knew he and Tauriel would have to have soon making it hard to keep his breathing even.


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: Loads of fluff ahead. Seriously. Loads of it. Hope you enjoy!_

 **Chapter 30**

Upon his return to the tent they shared, Kíli found Tauriel engaged in deep conversation with Ingwen. The two Elves were sitting on the ground in front of the tent's entrance, their heads put together over something which Kíli could not see as he approached. Arrowheads, he realized as he came closer. They appeared to be comparing their weapons' properties, discussing advantages and disadvantages of the different designs.

Kíli suppressed a smile. It was endearing to observe how much Tauriel was enjoying herself and he was glad that for a change she had the opportunity to seek out the company of other Elves. So glad, in fact, that he was almost able to ignore the little twinge in his stomach that always came with missing a little bit of Dwarven company, from time to time.

He liked Ingwen, who had continued to be their primary liaison during their time in Lothlórien. She had a sharp mind and did not waste much time on decorum, getting straight to the point instead whenever she came to talk to them. It was easy to see certain similarities between her and Tauriel, so it was no surprise that the two of them got along rather well.

As he came closer, both their heads, auburn and blonde, lifted and turned to look at him. The most recent events appeared to have left their mark on his face, for Ingwen rose immediately.

"I will take my leave," she said to Tauriel. "But I would very much like to continue our discussion at a later point."

Tauriel merely nodded, sending her new friend a quick smile without really taking her eyes off Kíli's face. She looked concerned.

With a slightly awkward little bow in Kíli's general direction, the tall Galadhrim disappeared amongst the trees, leaving Kíli and Tauriel on their own. Tauriel had now risen from the ground as well.

"What happened?" she asked, swiftly taking the few steps necessary to stand in front of him. "When I woke up I wanted to come find you immediately, but Ingwen assured me that you had been summoned by the lady Galadriel."

"I—," Kíli began, but was suddenly at a complete loss at how to explain everything that had transpired this morning. He shuddered when, all at once, some of the things he had learned threatened to overwhelm him and felt his knees give away slightly.

Tauriel's arms went around him immediately and she helped him lower himself to the ground, kneeling before him to cup his face in her warm, soft palms. She gazed at him with wide, worried eyes. "Are you hurt?"

Kíli shook his head, hating that he was once again scaring her like this. "No," he said, "I'm fine." He paused, wondering where to even begin. "I saw Fíli," he finally said, a knot in his chest threatening to burst if he did not get some of the things he had seen out in the open.

Tauriel inhaled sharply and drew her eyebrows together in confusion. "I do not understand – you weren't with Galadriel then?"

"No, I was," Kíli replied, still trying to get his thoughts in order. "She let me look into her mirror."

Tauriel's eyes widened as she gasped. "It is true, then. I have heard rumors that she has the power to show you things no one else knows, but I never knew for certain. What did you see?"

Kíli took a deep breath. And then he told her everything – about Fíli, that horrid place they had found themselves in and how he had fought to get them out of it, the voice which had kept calling him, meeting Faerveren and Iondaer, Faerveren's gift and her final request... By the time he reached the part of his story where Fíli had slipped away from his grasp to disappear into nothingness, his voice was hoarse and his eyes stung with unshed tears.

Tauriel leaned forward on her knees and embraced him, holding him to her until his shaking subsided. When she pulled away her own eyes were glistening. "Faerveren shared her own powers with you so that you could save _me_?"

Kíli nodded, smiling despite his grief over losing his brother all over again. "She did. Even in death you were still on her mind."

Tauriel returned his smile, a single tear spilling down her smooth cheek. "I always suspected that she possessed the gift of sight, but we never spoke of it. I— I always thought we had become so estranged. To think that after all this time she would give up such an essential part of herself just to help me..."

Now it was Kíli's turn to reach out and cup her cheek, wiping away her tear with his thumb. "I do not think she ever stopped caring about you."

Tauriel nodded, her face scrunched up with barely contained emotion. Covering his hand with hers, she pulled it away from her cheek and towards her lips, kissing his knuckles. "I am sorry," she said, taking a steadying breath. "This is not about me, but about you."

Kíli shook his head. "I don't think it is. Or not only about me at the very least." Where before his thoughts had been muddled, things suddenly seemed entirely clear. "It's about both of us, I believe, about you and me. Together."

"I am not sure I understand," she said, frowning.

Entwining his fingers with hers, Kíli smiled lovingly. "Everything that has happened, happened because of _us_ , because of the way we feel about each other. I came back because you were waiting for me on the other side. Faerveren passed her gift on to me because she knew I would be at your side to help you when you needed me. When that spider bit you – I had no idea what I could do, but somehow I was still able to save you simply because I _needed_ to. Because I _love_ you."

Tauriel smiled sweetly, her eyes shining with emotion. Leaning towards him once more, she captured his lips in a kiss, her hands letting go of his to sneak around his waist, pulling him more firmly against her. Kíli responded by cradling her beautiful face in his hands and returned her kiss, deeply and urgently. When they broke apart, Tauriel buried her face against the side of his neck and he held her to himself, pressing soft kisses into her hair.

"I love you," she said, and the utter confidence with which she said those words made his heart soar.

They stayed like that for a while longer, each caressing the other with gentle touches of both hands and lips. With his mind much calmer now and his heart more at ease, Kíli eventually remembered Galdriel's parting gift. Suddenly quite nervous, his heart sped up considerably and the two delicate rings in his pocket began to feel much heavier than they actually were.

Tauriel had to have felt him stiffen, for she loosened her embrace and drew back to look at him. "What is the matter?"

Kíli opened his mouth, but no words came. Could this be the right moment? Or should he wait for a different opportunity, complement what he wanted to ask her with a grand romantic gesture of some sort?

"Did you see something else in the mirror?" Tauriel asked, clearly worried by his sudden speechlessness. When he still did not reply, she drew her own conclusions. "You did, didn't you? Was it something about the future? Something terrible is about to happen, isn't it?"

"No," Kíli said immediately, grasping her shoulders in an effort to prevent her mind from jumping to the worst conclusions. "I've told you everything I saw. But afterwards—" He stumbled over his words. "Galadriel – she... Well, she suggested that you and I..."

"That we what?"

It was quite obvious that Tauriel had no idea what he was talking about. Why was this so hard? Surely they had been through enough together to render such a small question insignificant in comparison. And yet Kíli still struggled to find the right words, his face hot as he looked anywhere but at Tauriel.

"She said that you and I – well, that we ought to get married. Or that in a way we are, already – I'm not entirely sure I understood that part."

There it was, out in the open. Letting go of a breath he had not even known he was holding, Kíli risked a glance at Tauriel's face. She had sat back on her heels, her face momentarily wiped clear of all emotion. Then he watched a blush creep into her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze.

"I see," she said, her voice so low that Kíli had to strain his ears to hear her properly. "And is that – is that something you would want?"

"Well, yes," he said immediately, and then, when she still did not look at him, "or—or not, if _you_ don't want it..."

Her eyes flickered to his, insecurity written all over her perfect features. Kíli growled in frustration with himself. This was _not_ how this was done.

"Get up," he suddenly said, his voice sounding much harsher than he intended it to. Startled by his abrupt change in demeanor Tauriel looked at him, but obliged nevertheless.

Once she had risen to her feet, Kíli clasped one of her hands in his, dragging one of his legs out from under himself so that he was now down on one knee before her. As he gazed up at her gorgeous, flushed face, he was suddenly quite calm and the words he really wanted her to hear flowed freely from his lips.

"Tauriel, will you do me the greatest honor of my entire life and allow me to call you my wife? You would make me the happiest Dwarf to ever have walked among the stars I know you hold so dearly." He held his breath when he was done, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Joy and relief flooded his entire being when, after another moment of stunned silence, the brightest of smiles lit up Tauriel's face. "Yes," she said simply and a little breathlessly.

Kíli made to rise and swoop her up in his arms, his heart feeling like it might burst. She moved faster, though, and went back down onto her knees, her arms sliding around his neck to pull him against her as she sealed their agreement with a long, passionate kiss.

They were both smiling like the happiest of fools when they eventually broke apart. Without letting go of her completely, Kíli reached into his pocket, bringing his hand which held the two gold rings up between their bodies. "Galadriel gave me these," he explained. "She said that we might have some sort of formal ceremony, but I wasn't sure if you would want that."

Or if they _could_ do something like that, he added in his head, because for all the encouragement he had received from Galadriel to pursue this union with Tauriel, he was not sure if they would find anyone willing to witness or even officiate their wedding if they tried. After all, he was still a dwarf and she and elf. He certainly could not envision a Dwarven wedding being held for a union like theirs, so why would the Elves feel any different?

Tauriel's smile as she gazed at the two rings was blissfully untampered by such doubts and insecurities. She reached out to run the tip of her finger along the smooth edge of the smaller ring, unknowingly mirroring Kíli's reaction when he had first held the rings in his palm. Then she wrapped her hand around his fingers, closing them around the two pieces of jewelry. Kíli looked at her in surprise.

"Will you hold onto them just a little while longer?" she asked. "I just–" she smiled a little to herself, "I just thought of something that I would like to do first. Will that be alright?"

"Of course," Kíli said, trying to work out what it was she was talking about – he came up with nothing. "Is there anything _I_ can do?"

"No," she replied quickly, the secretive smile she wore on her face unsettling him slightly. "Just—just wait here for me."

He nodded a little reluctantly, but could not prevent a smile of his own from stealing across his face when Tauriel leaned down to press a quick, happy kiss to his lips before disappearing amongst the trees with purpose in her step.

Rubbing his palm against the back of his neck, he turned towards their tent and shrugged inwardly. He might as well rest a little, seeing that there was nothing for him to do except wait and he was not very good at that. Settling down amidst the soft pillows a few minutes later, he inhaled Tauriel's scent which still lingered there. Happy and exhausted in equal measures, he soon drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed the strangest dream. In it, he opened his eyes to find himself in a large bed with white sheets, sunlight streaming into the room from the open window and falling across his body in a rectangular shape. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair – it was long, he noticed, longer even than he presently wore it. Aside from the bed, the room was only furnished with a nightstand on each side of the mattress and a desk facing the window. It did, however, not appear barren at all, for the few items of furniture were all carved beautifully from the finest wood. Also, the room had something about it that made it feel familiar and so very comfortable. Kíli thought for a moment that he might be at Tuilimbar - none of the rooms there currently looked like this one, but the way the light entered the room reminded him so much of the afternoons at the Swallow's Nest that he could not help but wonder if this was some alternate – or future? – version of it.

His thoughts were interrupted then by voices from outside. He smiled when he heard Tauriel's laugh, happy that she was there with him, wherever this was. Throwing his legs over the side of the mattress, he rose to his feet and walked the few steps necessary to stand in front of the window. Supporting himself with his hands on the smooth surface of the desk he leaned froward, peering into the brightness outside. Everything looked to be in bloom, the air heavy with the smells of late spring, or early summer maybe.

Squinting against the sun, he finally located Tauriel amidst the green of the bushes, the grass, and the trees, the yellow, white, and pink of the many flowers. She, too, was clad in colors brighter than what he was used to, a pale yellow dress pooling around her as she sank down onto the grass.

She accepted a wreath of flowers from someone Kíli could not quite see for they were concealed by a blooming lilac bush. He narrowed his eyes, trying to peer through the leaves. The person was quite short, much shorter than a dwarf or a hobbit even – a child, he realized.

Kíli watched in fascination as the child – a boy, from the look of it – threw himself forward into Tauriel's arms, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. A smile spread across Tauriel's face the kind of which he had never seen on her before. Yes, she had given him many smiles in their time together, but none like this, so full of pride, contentedness, and warmth. Kíli swallowed when he realized that it reminded him of how Dís would welcome him back home after any foolhardy adventure he might have set out on – with a mother's smile.

Surely that child couldn't be...? But then again, the resemblance both to Tauriel and to what Kíli had looked like as a wee lad was hard to deny. His heart suddenly beating fast in his chest, Kíli wanted nothing more than to hurry outside and become an active part of this almost too beautiful scene. He stopped in his tracks, though, when both Tauriel and the child turned to look at something he could not see from this angle. Another smile lit up Tauriel's face and the child squealed with delight before running towards whatever they were seeing – or whoever, rather, for now Kíli was able to discern another shape approaching.

He had to shield his eyes against the sun while he struggled to identify the visitor. Something about their gait, their posture was oddly familiar. Finally they went down onto their knees to embrace the small child and Kíli was able to get a good view of their face. He would not have needed the child's exclamation ("Uncle!") to recognize who this was.

"Fíli," he muttered, his voice sounding strangely muffled to his own ears. As he watched his brother ruffle the little boy's hair affectionately before rummaging around in the bag he had set down on the ground to produce a small, delicately carved wooden boat which lit up the child's face in an even brighter smile than before, Kíli merged into the shadows, an unknown observer to the scene.

With a feeling of bittersweet joy and longing, he decided to stay and watch for as long as he was allowed to, for he knew now that what he was seeing was only a dream and not, as a part of him had dared hope before, a vision of the future. That what he had just witnessed could never come true, not like this at the very least, for Fíli was gone and would never be an uncle to any children he and Tauriel might – or might not – have.

Kíli could not tell for how much longer he watched those people he loved the most, but suddenly he was back in a tent in Lothlórien, staring at the roof as it moved gently in a gentle breeze blowing through the trees. He blinked, overwhelmed by what he had just seen. It was no real surprise that, after the events of that same morning, he should dream about his brother, fabricating a reality where Fili was still a part of his life, where they were not separated by death.

That child, though... Kíli closed his eyes, trying to conjure the little boy's features before his mind's eye once more and etch them into his memory. For he did not dare hope that he would ever get to meet him in this life. A child of an elf and a dwarf – he did not know if that was at all possible. And even if it were – what kind of life could they, could _he_ – offer a child?

He shook himself. Were was this coming from, all of a sudden? He and Tauriel had just decided to bind themselves to each other for eternity, and he wanted so much to be happy and give her happiness in return. He willed those thoughts of a life they might never get to have away and for the most part he was quite successful in doing so. Only at the very back of his mind he allowed himself to keep this memory of green eyes, dark curls and chubby little hands.

Running both hands across his face in a effort to rid himself of the slight drowsiness which he always experienced when he slept during the day, Kíli looked around the tent. From the length of the shadows he could tell that it had to be afternoon already and he wondered what Tauriel was doing for so long. Now that things were settled between them, he suddenly found himself surprisingly impatient to put that ring on her finger as a sign to the world of what they were to each other.

As if she had sensed his growing restlessness, Tauriel appeared at the tent's entrance soon after, her face a little flushed. Before Kíli could ask her what was the matter, he became distracted by what she was wearing – a dress, made of pure starlight. Or at least that was what it looked like, the flowing, silvery white fabric catching the light in the most fascinating manner. Kíli swallowed against a suddenly dry throat as his gaze traveled down the length of Tauriel's body, from the low neckline of the dress to the way it hugged her narrow waist and fell to the ground in smooth, shimmering folds.

"Is it... too much?" Tauriel asked, sounding a little out of breath. Kíli forced his gaze back to her face and saw that she was biting her lip.

"No," he said, his voice coming out as barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat. "No," he tried again, "it's perfect. Just... _perfect_." He looked down at himself. He was wearing a selection of the Elven clothes they had altered to fit his stature, all of them rather travel-worn and slightly mismatched. "I am afraid I have nothing with me that could measure up."

"I do not care about that at all," she said with a fond smile. "In fact I did not even want the dress – Ingwen's wife Sírdis insisted that I should wear it. She gave me something for you, too."

Only then did Kíli notice that another garment was draped over her arm, more silver than white and made of the same kind of flowing, luxurious fabric. A tunic, he realized when he took it from her hands and held it up in front of him. It was quite beautiful, to be sure, and he felt almost certain that he would look like a complete fool wearing it. But he did not care in the least bit – for Tauriel he would do anything, especially when she looked like this.

Exchanging his own, woolen shirt for the one she had bought him, he was surprised how good the material felt against his skin – cool and impossibly soft. It was a bit tight around his chest and the sleeves were too long, but he barely noticed it, glued as his eyes still were to those of his betrothed.

Under her still rather flustered gaze he felt his own cheeks heat up. "What do we do now?" he asked shyly. This was unfamiliar territory for him. Dwarven weddings were not something that took place every day – in fact Kíli could remember only one which he had witnessed and that had been as a child. So even if they weren't talking about Elven customs here, he would have been mostly clueless as to how a marriage ritual was to be performed.

"Ingwen has agreed to speak some blessings for us," Tauriel said. "I know they probably won't mean anything to you, but I felt that if we were going to do this, we might as well do it properly."

Kíli stepped forward and took one of her hands in his, exerting gentle pressure. "If it is only the least bit important to you, it matters to me as well," he assured her, earning a bright smile.

As they stood there, hands joined and Tauriel looking even more captivating than she usually did, Kíli had half a mind to simply stay in their tent, just the two of them. He shook himself and cleared his throat, again. "Shall we, then?" he asked, angling his head towards the tent's exit.

For a split second Tauriel looked as if she were at a loss what he was talking about, causing him to suspect that her thoughts had traveled down similar paths as his just had. He suppressed a grin when she blushed and loosely entwined his fingers with hers instead, gesturing for her to lead the way.

Outside sunset was approaching quickly, plunging the forest into a golden haze. Kíli followed Tauriel down a path that led away from the city and he realized that apparently they were not headed for Ingwen's quarters up high in the Mallorn trees. The path they took looked old and like it had not been used often in the more recent past. As the sounds of the city of the Elves fell away behind them, the noises of the forest took over and Kíli could almost imagine himself back in the lands around Tuilimbar, the place where he and Tauriel had finally brought down those last barriers between them, where they had allowed their love to blossom. Where, amidst grief and sorrow and uncertainty, he had found true happiness once more.

As those memories filled his heart with warmth, he pulled Tauriel closer to his side, tucking her arm underneath his own, and they continued on their path side by side peacefully and without haste. Tauriel smiled down at him, her eyes twinkling, and he was almost sure that she, too, was reliving the journey that had brought them here, the ods against which they had struggled successfully in order to be together.

Their path gently sloped down a hill, the trees and undergrowth so dense that Kíli was unable to see where they were headed. Another couple of turns and they suddenly found themselves at the edge of a small lake, its water completely still, a perfect reflection of the beautifully colored sky above. Completely taken with this idyllic display of beauty, Kíli did not immediately notice Ingwen a few feet off to their side, standing close to the water's edge, her hands clasped in front of her.

Kíli almost laughed when he saw her shift from one foot onto the other a little self-consciously, the fact that this usually stoic soldier he had come to know a little over the past few days was clearly made nervous by her role in this little impromptu ceremony inexplicably funny to him. He settled for a warm smile instead, his appreciation of the tall she-elf growing indefinitely over the fact that she had agreed to do her new friend this service even though she so obviously would have preferred do be anywhere else but here.

The grin which Ingwen return was a little terse, but then Kíli watched as her facial expression relaxed when, from among the trees, another figure appeared – Sírdis. Ingwen's wife was almost as tall as she was, but that was just about where the similarities between the two ended. While Ingwen had fair hair and blue eyes, Sírdis's head was adorned with long dark braids, her eyes a rich, deep brown that made them look almost black in the fading light. Kíli had only met her once before, on the morning after their arrival. Where Ingwen was not a person for excessive decorum and had initially struck Kíli as rather guarded – an impression which he'd had to revise after she and Tauriel had grown closer – Sírdis had been full of smiles from the first minute, her enthusiasm for everyone and everything contagious. Despite those stark difference the love which the two elves felt for one another was more than obvious. Every time their eyes locked it was a if a secret communication passed between the two of them, Ingwen's natural reservedness melting a little whereas Sírdis appeared to be anchored by her wife's level-headedness to prevent her from losing herself in her raptures.

Now, too, Sírdis looked almost ready to burst with joy over what they had come out here to do. In her hands she carried a wreath of flowers which she placed on the head of a blushing Tauriel, pressing a light kiss to her forehead before turning to Kíli. She held out her hand. "The rings, please," she said, excitement shining in her eyes.

She took the two gold bands from Kíli's not entirely steady hand, and practically floated to Ingwen's side where she stayed, the rings resting on her upturned palms.

For a moment they all looked at each other, not entirely sure what was supposed to happen next – except for Sírdis, that was, who simply continued to beam at Tauriel and Kíli.

"Yes," Ingwen finally said, clearing her throat a little. "We— You know why we are here, obviously."

Not sure if this was phrased as a question both Kíli and Tauriel nodded.

"Right," Ingwen said. "Before— before we begin I would like to ask if you both consent to become husband and wife, with all the things which such a union entails."

Kíli raised his eyebrows in slight amusement while beside him Tauriel blushed fiercely. Sírdis leaned in a little closer towards her spouse, a slightly mischievous grin on her lips. "I believe they have already preponed most of those things, my love."

Ingwen's cheeks turned quite pink, too, and she briefly closed her eyes. "Yes, of course." She cleared her throat once more. "The blessings, then." She paused to smile both at Tauriel and Kíli, her nervousness apparently beginning to subside a little. "Join hands, please."

They turned to face each other, the fingers of both hands entwined between their bodies. As Kíli looked up at Tauriel, all the slight awkwardness of the last few minutes was forgotten and his heart beat fast in his chest with joy over being here with her, doing what they were about to do. She smiled back at him and squeezed his fingers. The world fell away then, Ingwen's gentle voice all that remained of it as they gazed at each other.

"I ask the stars in the heavens above to watch over this union between Tauriel and Kíli," Ingwen said, her voice completely steady now. "I ask the winds to carry them along whichever path they choose to take. And I ask all the trees to stand witness to their love as it continues to grow, withstanding every obstacle it may encounter. May Eru the Father of All bless them both."

"May Eru bless them!" Sírdis repeated and stepped forward, the rings resting on her outstretched palm. "Let these rings be tokens of your love, so that all the world may know you are husband and wife."

Tearing his gaze away from Tauriel to turn towards Sírdis, Kíli picked up the smaller of the two rings without hesitation. Where before he had been nervous, he was now almost strangely calm. Never in his life had he been as sure of anything as of this - all the choices he had made in the more recent past had led him to this place, to this moment and his heart felt lighter than it had for a long, long time knowing that he was right where he was supposed to be.

His eyes were locked with Tauriel's as he slid the ring onto her finger, her wide, happy smile mirroring his own expression. "Amrâlimê," he whispered, knowing that this one word sufficed to encompass everything he felt for her and everything she meant to him, that it told the story of how they had fallen in love and of all the hardships they had encountered in their fight to be with each other.

"Amrâlimê," Tauriel returned when it was her turn to give Kíli his ring, her eyes misting over.

Not wanting a single tear - even if it was a happy tear - spilled at this moment, Kíli quickly leaned forward, raising his head to capture his bride's lips in a breathless kiss. Letting go of one of her hands, he used his now free arm to wrap it around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, demanding access to her mouth with his tongue. Never had he thought it possible to want someone the way he wanted her right then and he felt a pleasurable shiver run down the length of his spine when she gasped beneath his lips, her own hands coming up to cradle his head as she returned his kiss with similar vigor.

"I believe we may skip the part where you tell them to kiss," he heard Sírdis mumble to Ingwen.

Laughing, he and Tauriel broke apart, but did not let go of each other. Her eyes were twinkling with happiness and his own cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so widely.

"Apologies," Tauriel said to the two Galadhrim, smiling a little sheepishly.

"There are none in order," Sírdis returned, her own smile warm. "In fact, loving each other is the one thing you should _never_ apologize for."

Kíli and Tauriel glanced at each other. "Never again," Kíli confirmed.

"Never again," Tauriel echoed, taking his hands in hers once more. Her fingers gently traced the edges of the ring on his right hand, which felt inexplicably good. He did the same to her, eliciting a happy smile.

Sírdis clapped her hands together. "I believe a celebration is in order," she said excitedly. "A festival is held in Caras Galadhon tonight and all of tomorrow - what better way to spend the remainder of this glorious day than with song and dance?"

"I could think of a thing or two," Kíli muttered at Tauriel as they were propelled back towards the city of the Gladhrim by an overjoyed Sírdis, Ingwen following behind, smiling indulgently at her wife's enthusiasm. "And they all involve getting you out of that dress."

Tauriel rolled her eyes at him, but the faint blush creeping up her delicate neck did not escape his notice and neither did the quickening of her breath at his suggestive remark. "Later," she promised, causing a wolfish grin to erupt over his face. Yes. They had all the time in the word, had they not?

Hours from then, when he and Tauriel were dancing beneath the stars in a similar manner as they had all those months ago during the Feast of Erintion, Kíli found that he was not at all in a hurry to get back to their tent anymore. Just feeling the curve of Tauriel's hips beneath his palms as they gently swayed to the music, her breath against the side of his neck, her right hand resting on his chest just above his heart, were enough to make him the happiest dwarf to have ever walked this earth.

Lifting up his eyes to gaze at the constellations, he was not surprised to discern the slender form of Galadriel looking down at them from one of the platforms above. In his mind he had already sensed her presence. His eyes found hers in the dark and she nodded at him, a smile stretching her lips. He hoped that the gratitude he felt showed on his face, hoped that she knew how great a service she had done him. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again she was gone, only the faint echo of her voice in his head a proof that she had ever really been there.

"Well done, Kíli," her voice said. "Well done."


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: I was very happy to get some positive feedback on the previous chapter - thank you for that! I'm determined to finish this story by the end of the summer, so I've decided to post all chapters that I've already written in quick succession. There is one final adventure that I want to send Kíli and Tauriel on before this is over and I'm quite anxious to get to this part of the story. Hope you enjoy - feedback of any sort is always welcome!_

 **Chapter 31**

Tauriel was on fire. Not literally, luckily, but in just about every figurative sense of the word. She would not have thought it possible, but it seemed that there were ways in which Kíli could touch her that unleashed torrents of desire unparalleled by anything she had experienced up to this point – even with him. Not that the physical side of their relationship had ever left her wanting, by far not, but still... there was a new intensity to his touch, a new boldness to his caresses. Not even to mention the way that he looked at her, making her insides quiver and causing her entire body to feel hot and flushed and oh so desired.

It was largely due to the most recent changes in their relationship, she thought, the commitment they had made removing even those last remnants of the walls between them. But also the things Kíli had learned about himself played a great role in those changes. Having regained that missing slip of his memories, that knowledge of how he had become what he was now, appeared to have lifted an enormous weight off of his shoulders and now, with those missing pieces back in place, he had been made whole again. And he was incredible.

Arching her back, Tauriel felt her hips lift off the cushions she lay on, one arm coming up to cover her face, stifling the moan which escaped her lips at the things Kíli was doing to her with his hands and, more importantly, his mouth. His glorious mouth.

Suddenly, firm hands grabbed her narrow hips, pulling her down and holding her in place. Kíli leaned over her then, using one of his hands to gently lift her arm away from her face. The other hand slid away from her hip and across her lower belly to disappear between her legs, the contact with her already oversensitive flesh causing her to turn her face to the side, burying it against the arm which Kíli now held pinned above her head.

He would have none of it, though. Releasing her arm, he cupped her chin, turning her head so that she was looking at him once more. "I want to see you," he said, his own voice husky with desire. "Will you let me see you?"

How could she deny him anything when he looked at her like this, his eyes darkened by his passion for her to the extent that they were almost black? Instead of a reply, she brought her hand up to wrap it around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, letting her lips give her consent in the form of a deep kiss since they appeared unable to produce any words.

Kíli allowed her to deepen the kiss for a while, his tongue sliding past her lips, the taste of herself on him overpowering all of her other senses and nearly causing her to come undone right then. But then he pulled away once more, his hand leaving her face so that he could support himself with one arm as he leaned over her, looking at her while he continued to drive her mad with the touch of his other hand.

Tauriel found that it took all her remaining willpower to hold his gaze and not look away or close her eyes instead, but she soon realized that doing so was well worth the effort. Staring into the brown depths as waves of desire continued to roll over her with each stroke of his fingers, each new angle which he explored, caused her to feel as if the whole world belonged to her and she was just floating above it, glorious, invincible.

Wanting Kíli to share this experience with her, she somehow mustered enough control over her body to slide one of her legs up his calf and the back of his thigh, exerting enough pressure to bring him closer, inviting him to join his body to hers. She knew he wanted to – he had kept up his caresses for a good long while now and watching her writhe underneath him was quite obviously having its effect on him as well, the evidence of his arousal impossible to overlook. And so Tauriel was surprised when she found him resisting the pressure of her leg, the arm on which he was supporting his weight quivering slightly.

Seeing her confusion written all over her face, he shook his head slightly. "No distractions," he managed, a slight tremor in his voice betraying the effort it cost him. "I want this to be only about you."

She recognized the determination in his gaze and knew that there was no point in arguing over this. Besides, only a fool would complain about being touched with such reverence, paying attention to all of her needs, knowing what would give her pleasure even before she knew it herself. And so she abandoned herself completely to his worship of her body, letting his fingers chase away all rational thought.

It did not take long until she felt that familiar knot beginning to form deep within her core, the tension radiating from it threatening to drive her insane until, finally, her entire body constricted with her release, Kíli's name a breathless whisper on her lips as she was shattered to pieces right in front of him only to be scooped up and made whole again by his love and devotion. And all the while he did not take his eyes off of her and she held his gaze, drowning in it until he had her gasping for air.

He leaned down then and placed gentle kisses on each corner of her mouth, her chin, her neck, helping her to anchor herself to the here and now once more. Moving back up to her mouth, he took her lips in a languid kiss. Then, climbing off of her, he came to lie beside her on his back, gathering her in his arms so that her head rested against his shoulder.

With the hand that lay on his chest, she began to draw slow circles, watching goosebumps erupt over his skin, his breathing picking up in speed a little. Before her hand had a chance to take a downward path, he covered her fingers with his and held them in place right over his heart.

She raised her head off his shoulder and looked down at him. "Don't you want to..." she began, indicating with a downward glance that he had yet to find relief for the state of excitement that his previous actions had left him in.

Raising his hand, he pulled her down for a rather chaste kiss and shook his head, smiling. "Later," he said. "Now I just want to hold you, if that is alright."

Resting her head against his shoulder once more, Tauriel pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Of course it is," she said. "We have all the time in the world, don't we?"

"I very much hope so," Kíli mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed as he gave himself over to a peaceful slumber.

Tauriel stayed awake watching him for a good long while, marveling at her luck. Even if they had been destined for each other, which she firmly believed, how unlikely had been the odds that their paths would ever cross and that they would pause for long enough to fall in love? But they had done it, had beaten those odds and were now, finally, allowed a shot at happiness. And Tauriel prayed that their luck would last. Prayed with all of her heart and soul.

XxXxXxXxXx

As all nights in Lothlórien, it was a beautiful one when Tauriel and Kíli once again found themselves in the home of Ingwen and Sírdis, the sky above their house up in the trees clear and the air mild. Tauriel and Ingwen had been sitting in companionable silence for a while now, watching the constellations above. That they could do this - and had done so several times over the past couple of days - was something which Tauriel highly appreciated. With Ingwen, it seemed, she did not have to constantly explain herself and was accepted simply for who she was. The only other person with whom she had ever felt like this was Kíli, of course, and the fact that she should be so lucky to have met another soul who gave her this feeling in such a relatively short time astounded her.

In the background, Kíli and Sírdis were having an absolutely hilarious competition over who would first run out of rhyming words. Tauriel was surprised that Kíli proved to be quite the poet indeed - she had not known about that particular talent of his. But then again, many of the words and expressions he used were not exactly the stuff of poetry - at least not the kind she was accustomed to.

Laughing and shaking their heads at the antics of their spouses, Ingwen and Tauriel turned towards each other eventually, a quiet contemplation of the sort they had been enjoying for the last half hour made impossible by the increasing level of noise Kíli and Sírdis were making as their competition became more heated.

"So," Ingwen said, "have you thought about what you are going to do next?"

Ah. Tauriel had been wondering when that question would arise. So far, the Galadhrim had given no indication whether they expected the Wood-elf and the Dwarf in their midst to leave, seeing that they had found what they had come for – and so much more.

She and Kíli had not discussed the matter at length – serious conversation not having been one of their priorities in the past couple of days – but of course they would not stay indefinitely. There was no reason for them to do so, no matter how many friends they made here or how happy they were. Still, there had been an unspoken agreement between them to enjoy the peace and comfort that being guests in Caras Galadhon offered for just a little while longer.

It appeared that this time of bliss was slowly coming to an end. Tauriel could tell from the way in which Ingwen looked at her own hands rather than her face that she was not entirely happy to be asking this question. That she, were such decisions up to her, would not want her new friends to depart at all. But the fact that she had asked it still carried enough meaning in itself.

Tauriel sighed. "I am not sure," she said truthfully.

Ingwen leaned forward in her seat. "I hope you do not misunderstand. You are welcome here as guests for as long as you like." Her face was full of sincerity and Tauriel nodded, smiling at her friend. Satisfied, Ingwen shifted into a more relaxed pose again. "I feel that I have come to know you rather well, or as well as is possible in such a short time," she continued, earning another smile from Tauriel. "However this is the one thing in regard to which I cannot read you at all. There is this restlessness about you – both you and Kíli, in fact – that has me expecting to find you gone everytime I come looking for you. And at the same time you just looked as if leaving was the last thing on your mind when I asked you where you wanted to go."

This time, Tauriel's answering smile was a little wry. "It is not as if we had not greatly enjoyed our time here," she said.

"But...?" Ingwen prompted.

Tauriel sighed. How could she possibly convey to Ingwen the complexity of their situation, of Kíli's heritage, her estrangement from but continued loyalty to her own home and king, the unease with the state of things they both sometimes experienced in the aftermath of the great battle, her own longing to escape from the binds which had held her down all her life and the terrible fear which doing so instilled in her...

As always when her thoughts were threatening to spiral out of control, it was Kíli who brought her back to the here and now, who reminded her of the things which really mattered. She had not even noticed him sliding into the seat next to her and looked up in surprise when he covered her hand with his.

"We have some unfinished business to attend to in Mirkwood," he replied to Ingwen in her stead. Turning her hand over in his, he lifted it to his lips, brushing his lips over her skin. "And after that, I believe there are some places we must travel to." When Tauriel arched a questioning eyebrow, he added, "To the tops of the highest mountains. To the shores of the most distant seas. Through the deepest of valleys and down the wildest of rivers. Did I forget something?" His eyes twinkled with laughter, but she could see clearly that beyond that he was quite serious about his proposition.

Tauriel laughed, amazed and strangely touched by the fact that he remembered what she had told him so long ago, word for word. "No, that was all, I believe," she said, grinning at him.

Could it really be this simple? Maybe it could. She had longed to see the world for many years, so what was stopping her now? And with Kíli at her side, she knew that she need not be afraid. Not that she needed someone to defend her, by far not, but it assured her immeasurably that with him there, she was not in danger of losing herself on those travels.

Kíli smiled widely when he saw her consent to his plan begin to spread across her features and for a moment they were lost in each other's eyes while new paths began to map themselves out in their minds, the future still uncertain but certainly not bleak.

Ingwen's voice brought them back to the present. "That sounds as if you really must go, then." Her accompanying smile was warm, even if a bit wistful.

Sírdis came stand behind her, loosely wrapping her arms around her wife's shoulders. "We shall surely miss your company."

Ingwen covered Sírdis' hands with one of her own, leaning her head back to smile at her wife, clearly grateful for the comfort. "We will," she confirmed. Her face grew more serious when she looked at Tauriel and Kíli once more. "Can I ask you a favor, though?"

They glanced at each other and sat up more straightly in their seats. "Anything at all," Tauriel said, while Kíli nodded to show that he, too, was more than willing to help out with whatever it was that Ingwen needed them to do.

Despite their immediate assurance, Ingwen hesitated before continuing. "Something has been worrying me for a while now and although the general consensus seems to be that we ignore what does not concern us directly, I find it increasingly difficult to be at peace until the matter is resolved."

Tauriel glanced at Sírdis, who had kept her hands on Ingwen's shoulders but had straightened up, her mouth forming a hard line on her usually cheerful face. Whatever it was that Ingwen wanted to discuss, it was obvious that Sírdis would rather have left the matter alone. Despite her resolution to try and avoid any unnecessary danger, Tauriel was intrigued. "What is it that you speak of?"

"There have been certain findings in the river Celebrant that give rise to the belief that something evil is afoot further upstream," Ingwen explained after another moment of hesitation.

Kíli spoke before Tauriel could, his eyebrows knitted together. "What kind of findings?"

Ingwen sighed. "At first it was only the occasional stray object, things that travellers might carry with them – a flask, items of clothing, a piece of rope... But then, a fortnight ago, there was a body. And then another only a few days after that."

"Your own people?" Kíli asked while Tauriel was struggling with the image of one of the Galadhrim drifting, face down, in the river...

"No," Ingwen said immediately. "Had that been the case no one would hesitate to take action and terminate the threat. They were Men, but it was impossible to determine their origin. They were mutilated beyond recognition."

"Were there any signs as to who or what they were attacked by?" Tauriel asked, the strategic soldier in herself taking over.

"Nothing conclusive," Ingwen returned. "I suspect that they were travellers looking for passage over the mountains. It is likely that they were killed by goblins."

"The mountains are known to be infested with them," Tauriel remarked.

"That is no news indeed," Ingwen said. "What worries me is the frequency of those attacks. And getting rid of their prey in this manner... It is not typical for goblins to behave like that. Almost as if they are sending a message to us."

Tauriel turned to Kíli, whose eyebrows were raised as he took in that information. "It does appear worth investigating, does it not?"

Kíli nodded grimly and looked at Ingwen. "Assuming that is what you want us to do?"

Ingwen nodded. "I have gone as far as I am allowed to without direct orders, but was unable to find anything. I am not asking you to put yourselves in any kind of danger, but if there is any way that you might look for signs of a threat lurking further upstream and send word to warn my people, my mind would be greatly at ease."

Again, Kíli and Tauriel looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them. If they were to find something, then they would not shy away from a fight – they both knew that, and Tauriel was quite sure that Ingwen did, too. From the satisfied look on Sírdis' face, she gathered that that last part had been said by Ingwen to appease her spouse and assure her that she was not deliberately risking their friends' safety. Sírdis, Tauriel knew, was not a fighter. She did not understand the urge to take action against an unknown threat, even if it meant putting oneself in harm's way.

Catching Ingwen's gaze, she nodded, her jaw firmly set. "We shall gladly do you this service," she said. "It is the least we can do after everything you have done for us."

"Thank you," Ingwen said, tension leaving her body as she exhaled. Tauriel understood. She remembered all too well how it felt to worry about the darkness in this world and not be allowed to do something about it.

"Excellent!" Sírdis clapped her hands together, her bright smile a little more forced than usual. Clearly she was eager to leave the topic behind. "Should we go for a walk? It is such a lovely night."

Kíli opened his mouth, surely about to remark that all nights in Lothlórien were lovely. Under the table, Tauriel stepped onto his foot. It was not Sírdis' fault that hers was a different mindset than those of the three other people seated at the table and the least they could do to repay her for her hospitality and unwavering kindness was to play along and pretend that everything was absolutely fine – clearly that was what she wanted.

And so they set out on another late-night walk together, Tauriel looping her arm through Kíli's while they took one of the long, winding stairways that would take them down to the ground. He covered her hand with his, tugging her even closer to his side.

"When you spoke of unfinished business back in Mirkwood, what did you mean exactly?" she asked him as they walked. The question had arisen immediately after his earlier statement, but it was only now that she felt the moment was right to ask it. "Surely you cannot still feel obliged to help Thranduil get his gems back?"

Kíli appeared to consider this for a moment. "I do, in a way. I made a promise and I intend to keep it — if the opportunity to do so arises," he added with a smirk, making Tauriel feel glad that he did not feel all that indebted to the Elvenking. "But what I really had on my mind were Faerveren's letters."

Tauriel tightened her hold onto his arm. "Of course," she said, wondering why she had not thought of this right away. "We never managed to read them all."

"We didn't," Kíli confirmed and for a moment his eyes were far, far away, seeing things which Tauriel could not. He blinked. "I will never get the chance to meet her, but now that I know what she did, I feel as if I need to finish reading those letters to honor the connection I have with her."

"I understand," Tauriel said. The twinge of jealousy she felt at the fact that Faerveren and Kíli were connected in a way beyond rational comprehension could not compare to the gratefulness which enveloped her when she thought of her former mentor and the things she had done for both Kíli and herself. "I, too, long to return to Tuilimbar. Even if it cannot be forever."

For a moment Kíli looked as if he were about to argue with that, but then a wistful smile spread across his face. "No, it cannot, can it? But we can always return."

Tauriel was not sure if he meant it as a question or a reassurance, and she stopped and turned towards him, leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. When their lips parted, she stayed close, feeling his warm breath against her skin, and allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment. "Yes," she said. "We can always return. And we will."

Kíli pressed another quick kiss to her lips, sealing the plans they had made. Tuilimbar first. Anywhere else later.

Tauriel smiled when they pulled apart and took his hand in hers, gently pulling him along. Ingwen and Sírdis were waiting for them at the foot of the stairs and they followed them into the night while the lights of the city danced above their heads.

The walked in silence for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Then Tauriel remembered something. "Who won?" she asked, causing Kíli to look up in surprise and a faro bit of confusion. "Your competition with Sírdis, I mean."

"Ah," Kíli said, a slightly sour expression on his face that made Tauriel stifle a giggle. "She did. Although I still maintain that _sesquipedalian_ is not really a word. She just made that up."

Tauriel cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "I believe it is. It means—"

She was cut off by his finger against her lips. "Ah ah ah. I don't want to hear it. It's not a word."

She pulled her head back, laughing. "But I'm quite sure—"

This time, she was silenced by a kiss. When she giggled against his lips, he pulled her closer still, running his tongue along her bottom lip, ticking, teasing. With a small sigh, she gave in, parting her lips to welcome him. Quickly, their original topic of conversation was forgotten and they clung to each other, oblivious to the rest of the world.

That was, until they heard Sírdis' melodic voice call to them from somewhere up ahead. "Whatever is taking you two so long?"

Blushing, Tauriel pulled away, her lips tingling and her head feeling curiously light. "We should try and catch up," she murmured, the firm grasp of Kíli's hands on her hips making it hard to think straight.

"Let her wait, that cheater," he grumbled, but loosened his hold onto her nevertheless.

She gave another laugh, looping her arm through his once more. "Come," she said, "I'm sure you'll think of something else to beat her at before the night is over."

He appeared to contemplate this quite seriously. "I suppose a drinking competition is off the table?" he finally asked.

Tauriel raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." When he huffed in disbelief she added, "I'm quite serious. Don't do that."

He grinned, clearly intrigued by the idea. "But I'm sure I could—"

"Don't," she simply said.

He would not have been the Dwarf that he was had he given up that easily, and their laughter as they continued to debate the matter echoed through the night as they followed their friends. Their time in Lothlórien might be coming to an end, but there was no sadness in their hearts, for they knew that the happiness they had found there would continue to exist far beyond their stay.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Leaving the Golden Wood produced a curious sensation, Kíli found. It took him some effort to step out from among the trees, as if he were struggling against an invisible barrier. If that was truly the case or if it was merely his mind playing a trick on him, he could not say with certainty. He wobbled on his feet a little and blinked, feeling disoriented. Tauriel seemed to experience something similar – her sharp intake of breath when her feet touched something other than forest ground for the first time in weeks did not go unnoticed by him.

The change in the air was apparent, too, and Kíli lifted his head for a moment, allowing a warm summer spray free access to his face. When his body and spirit felt more in balance, he turned around to face Ingwen, who had accompanied them to the western border of the forest. She stayed just within the treeline, one hand braced against the stem of one of the younger trees that grew there.

Her smile was wistful, but other than that, she was quite composed, as was usually the case with her. Kíli felt secretly glad that Sírdis had not come. Otherwise, this might have turned into a more dramatic goodbye and he was not good at those. As it was, they had already said everything that needed to be said long before reaching the border and all that was left now was a final, mercifully quick farewell.

Ingwen clasped his shoulder, leaning down far enough to bring her eyes level with his. "Thank you," she said, "for reminding me that the prejudices some of my people hold against yours are just that – prejudices. I hope we will meet again."

He inclined his head, bringing up one hand to briefly squeeze hers. "We will. I am sure of it."

Tauriel was next. Kíli watched as the two Elves embraced each other, feeling sorry for Tauriel that she had to bid her friend farewell without knowing when they would be seeing each other again. She was trying to be strong about it, but he could tell that their departure was having more of an effect on her than she was letting on.

"Safe travels," Ingwen said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair behind Tauriel's ear. With anyone else, Kíli would have experienced roaring jealousy at such a gesture, now he merely reached out to put his own palm against Tauriel's lower back, trying to offer her comfort.

"Thank you," Tauriel said, her voice only a tiny bit less steady than usual. "We will try to get a message to you regarding the disturbances upstream as soon as we find anything."

Ingwen nodded gravely. "You know I greatly appreciate your assistance." Her eyes darkened as she gazed into the direction they were headed, the mountains looming over them. "If the risk becomes to great to take, please do not hesitate to turn back. I could not forgive myself if either of you got hurt on my behalf."

"We won't," Tauriel assured her, and Kíli could feel her confidence radiating off her, infecting him as well. The had dealt with much worse than a couple of goblins, hadn't they?

Ingwen studied them both for a long moment before she smiled and nodded. "Farewell then," she said, giving one of her customary small bows.

This time, Kíli did not hesitate to return it, as did Tauriel. "Farewell my friend," she said.

And with that Ingwen turned and disappeared between the trees once more, not even the slightest rustle of leaves betraying her steps. Kíli took a deep breath and turned towards Tauriel, who was still staring after Ingwen, no doubt reminiscing their happy times together. He held out his hand to her. "Ready?"

Slipping her fingers into his, she, too, turned her back on the forest. "As ready as I'll ever be."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

They made swift progress, following the course of the river Silverlode towards the mountains. It felt good to be walking greater distances once more and to let their eyes wander over the great expanses of land both to the north and south. With the worries that had plagued him still on their journey to Lothlórien now lifted, Kíli felt free – more so than he could remember feeling for the longest of times. Now, there was no larger than life quest looming on the horizon, no kingdom to conquer. Instead, it was just him and Tauriel, doing what they were best at.

Along the riverbank they found no definitive proof of any hostile activities. Signs of recently used campsites, yes, but as to the individuals who had been there, they could only make vague assumptions. They always stayed alert though, which meant that once again, resting together was out of the question. Kíli knew that this would not last forever, but still he found it hard to go to sleep without Tauriel wrapped up in his arms, and the yearning for her touch grew stronger by the hour.

They tried to make up for this sudden loss of intimacy by talking about nearly everything which came to mind, their conversations making it so much easier to bear not being able to continuously touch each other, especially as darkness descended around them. It was during one such conversations when Tauriel suddenly stiffened, an odd look on her face clearly visible in the light radiating from the small fire they had risked to make.

Kíli had been lying on his side, stretching out limbs that ached almost pleasantly from a long day of walking. As he observed the change in Tauriel's demeanor, however, he was on his knees in an instant, ready to jump up if so required.

"What is it?" he asked, casting a worried glance around them. The night was still and quiet, only the slightest of breezes causing an occasional rustle in the bushes shielding them from the open lands.

Tauriel cocked her head to one side, listening intently. "I just felt sure that we were being watched," she said. "But now the feeling is gone once more."

She rose to her feet, staring into the blackness which surrounded them. Slowly, Kíli came to stand beside her. There was some sensation at the back of his mind which he could not quite grasp, like a thought half-formed, the imprint of an image that has already begun to fade. He suppressed a shudder. Out here, this close to the mountain range infested with goblins and refuge to many an unspeakable evil, this could only mean trouble.

"Should we be on our way?" he asked. After their long march, catching up on a little bit of sleep would have been desirable, but now nervous anticipation was beginning to take a hold of him, both his body and mind alert and ready to spring into action.

Tauriel turned to look at him, clearly weighing their options. "You need some rest," she finally said. And, when he made to protest that he could keep going all night if need be, "You were already half asleep just a minute ago. Going into a fight when you are exhausted is a risk I am not willing to take. And neither should you."

Her tone left no room for argument and he grudgingly relented. She was right, he knew that. What good would he be to her if he wasn't at his best form? That did not mean that he had to like it and he found himself envying her for her Elven constitution.

"Only for a couple of hours," Tauriel said appeasingly, noticing his sullen mood. "We will set out again while it is still dark. Maybe we have better chances to catch whatever is lurking out there at night time."

Kíli nodded reluctantly. Before settling down, he caught Tauriel's hand in his, his fingers closing around it to trace the edges of the ring she wore on her forefinger. "Promise me that you won't do something insane while I'm asleep," he said. "Like going after it alone."

She turned her head sideways to look at him, and he could tell that a very remote part of her had indeed considered this option. A slightly guilty look crossed her face. "I won't," she promised sincerely and turned fully to put a palm on either side of his face, kissing him gently.

The touch of her lips against his was tempting, but somehow Kíli managed to resist the nearly overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms. Instead, he returned to his former position on the ground and forced himself to relax while Tauriel held a vigilant watch.

It felt as if he had just closed his eyes a couple of seconds ago when Tauriel woke him. He could tell though by the position of the moon and by the fact that the sky was not as pitch black as it had been when he had laid down that several hours had to have passed. After a brief moment where he had to gather his bearings, he was wide alert.

Silently, they set about gathering their few belongings and then Kíli followed Tauriel up a path that led them away from the river and onto a slight elevation stretching alongside it. They barely spoke in order to remain as stealthy as possible. Kíli did not need words, though, to recognize how tense Tauriel was. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened while he had rested, otherwise she would have told him so, but clearly something was underway in the vicinity and Kíli had a feeling that it would not be long before they would find out what it was.

The ground continued to rise beneath their feet and once they had reached the highest point they turned northwest, walking parallel to the river below them. Large boulders protruded from the earth quite frequently in this area and they used them to conceal themselves from the sight of anyone who might be watching them from below.

After almost an hour of walking like this, Tauriel suddenly stopped, crouching down next to one of the boulders. Kíli stayed behind her, kneeling down as well. Peering over her shoulder, he saw what had made her stop – a faint glimmer rising up from where the ground fell away towards the river once more.

Tauriel turned to look at him and indicated with a jerk of her head that they should proceed, but cautiously. Careful not to make a sound, they covered what was left of the ridge, until they came to lie flat on their bellies in order to be able to look down at the plains stretching out below without giving away their presence.

They were not surprised to see that the source of the light they had observed before were several fires burning in what was clearly a goblin encampment. What did hit them somewhat unexpectedly, was how large it was, goblins swarming about the place like ants.

At the center of the camp, Kíli discerned a couple of sturdy, wooden poles, dark shadows slumped at their bottoms. People, he realized – people who had been tied to the poles. It was impossible to tell from up here whether they were still alive, but to Kíli that would not have made much of a difference. His blood was already boiling over this display of atrociousness.

"There are too many," he ground out through gritted teeth. "We couldn't possibly defeat them all."

He thought back to when he and the rest of Thorin's company had faced the Goblin King and his minions. They had not been great fighters, that much was certain, but still a huge amount of luck and more than a little bit of magic had been involved in them escaping the goblin lair alive. Now there was only the two of them and no wizard there to swoop in and save them should things go sour.

Tauriel was silent for a moment and Kíli could practically hear the cog wheels turning in her head. "Maybe we do not have to defeat them all," she said slowly. "Maybe it will be enough if we defeat just one – if it is the right one."

Kíli frowned as he tried to piece the meaning behind her words together. Tearing his eyes away from the horrific sight of the goblins' prisoners, he followed her gaze to the only tent in the camp. Its drapes were either the filthiest pieces of fabric he had ever laid eyes upon or they had already been black to begin with. Shadows danced across the tattered cloth, suggesting movement within.

"Their leader, no doubt," Tauriel commented. "I say we take off the head of the snake and let the rest destroy themselves."

It was too dark to see such small details, but Kíli could vividly picture the glint in her eyes as she spoke those words. Mahal, how he loved this magnificent warrior.

"That just might work," he said, excitement creeping into his voice. "They are certainly stupid enough to just turn on each other with no one there to keep them in line."

Tauriel nodded eagerly. "Precisely. If we move swiftly, we might get out again before they realize what has happened. Then we can watch from up here as chaos unfolds."

Kíli was unable to suppress a grin. "I like that plan," he said, but then remembered something. "What if they already know we are coming, though? If we were indeed being watched before, they might be expecting us. The whole thing could be a trap."

Tauriel shook her head. "I do not think it was them watching us. If it had been, they would have come for us already, uncontrolled brutes that they are." She looked far her shoulder and into the darkness behind them. "No, whatever was it there before really did just watch. Maybe it wasn't an enemy at all – merely something that wanted to make sure we weren't a threat."

A nagging little feeling in Kíli's gut told him that there was more to it than that, but also he could not argue with Tauriel's reasoning when it came to the goblins. For now they still had the element of surprise on their side and they might not find another opportunity as good as this one to strike.

"What about their prisoners?" he asked, his gaze traveling back to the pitiful shadows. If chaos ensued in the manner in which Tauriel had predicted, those poor souls would end up right in the middle of it, unable to defend themselves – if they were still alive, that was.

"We will stay close by after we take out the leader and as soon as the opportunity arises, we will do what we can for them." She looked at him, reading his thoughts. "I do not like putting them at further risk either, but we cannot make them our priority. You understand that, don't you?"

The message behind her words was clear. No unnecessary displays of heroism for someone who might still turn out to be an enemy. "I do," he replied, nodding curtly. She was right of course, but that did not mean that he had to like it. He studied the camp below for a few moments. "Approaching from a northwestern angle seems to be the most direct path to that tent, don't you think?"

"It does indeed," Tauriel confirmed. "We will have to circle around the camp for a bit, but it shouldn't be too hard to stay out of sight."

Kíli, too, had noted a number of bushes and smaller trees along the northern edge of the encampment. With the aid of darkness, those should provide sufficient cover. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

He made to rise, but as he did so, Tauriel turned towards him and grabbed him by his collar, dragging him back to where she was still pressed against the ground. She kissed him, hard, her lips slanting across his mouth in an uncharacteristically demanding manner. The kiss lasted only seconds, but was enough to leave him quite breathless and struggling to remember where they were for a moment. As she pulled away, her eyes were ablaze with the thrill of what they were about to do.

He smirked. "We should hunt down goblins more often if that is going to make you kiss me like this."

She rolled her eyes at him, but grinned. "Just wait and see what I'll do _after_ we get this done."

And with that she pushed herself off the ground and began climbing down the side of the hill, leaving Kíli to stare after her, his mouth hanging slightly open.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

To say that invading a goblin encampment without being seen was easy would be a bit of an oversimplification, but it was still true that they encountered not too many difficulties on this particular venture. As they were crouched down in the shadow of the black tent, Tauriel wiped her blade on the grass to clean it if the blood of the two guards unfortunate enough to get in the way of their objective.

Beside her, Kíli was trying to peer through one of the many gashes in the tent's fabric in an attempt to find out what they would be facing inside of it. He turned his head towards her and raised the hand that wasn't clutching his sword. First, he held up only his thumb and then his middle and index finger. Tauriel nodded. One leader, two henchmen.

Overpowering them shouldn't prove too difficult. The biggest challenge would be to do it quickly, before attracting the attention of the numerous enemies milling about.

Silently, they moved to the back of the tent. While her heart had been beating quite quickly on their way here, Tauriel now felt a powerful calm wash over her. This, she knew how to do. And so did Kíli, each of his movements in perfect synchronization with hers without any kind of verbal interaction whatsoever.

She watched his back rise and fall in a final, deep breath and then he leaned down to lift the heavy canvas. Not hesitating for even a second, she dropped to the ground and rolled sideways through the gap, jumping to her feet again immediately. Kíli was right behind her, but seeing that there was no time to waste in this risky operation she did not linger and threw herself at their opponents without hesitation.

With the element of surprise on their side, the two goblin soldiers bent over a map of some sort were on the ground, drawing their last, ragged breaths even before Kíli had risen to his feet inside the tent. Their general, a broad, grey-skinned, hideous character, jumped to his feet, knocking over the table in front of him in doing so. His reactions were quick, and he threw a well-aimed dagger in Tauriel's direction. She was faster, though, and not only managed to dodge the weapon, but reciprocated the gesture, piercing the goblin's hand with one of her own, smaller blades.

Clutching his arm, wide-eyed, he opened his ugly mouth to, no doubt, roar in both pain and outrage, but barely manged to get a sound past his lips before Kíli came at him, knocking him off his feet with a kick to his ribs. As his back hit the ground, the last thing he would ever see was Kíli fixing him with a deadly glare, before plunging his sword into his chest.

Breathing heavily, Kíli turned towards Tauriel and they grinned at each other, basking, for a moment, in the elation of a fight won.

"That wasn't too hard, was it?" Kíli remarked as he turned to withdraw his blade from the body at his feet.

"Indeed not. But then again, we already knew that the more difficult part is still to come," Tauriel replied, while she crossed to where the table had toppled over, quickly scanning the map the goblins had been looking at. She easily identified the Misty Mountains at its center and several markings, red and black, running along the entire length mountain range. Goblin strongholds, maybe? She hurriedly folded the map and tucked it into her belt, hoping that she would not lose it in whatever was going to happen next.

Turning around, she saw Kíli holding up the tent's wall in the same spot they had come through before. "Better get to it, then," he said, waiting for her to go through first.

With her eyes she took a final sweep of the tent to make sure if there was anything else worth taking. There wasn't, the goblins' weapons practically useless in comparison to the blades and bows she and Kíli carried. Swiftly, she ducked under the canvas and out into the night, crouching down low once she had made it outside, waiting for Kíli to join her.

The immediate vicinity of the tent was clear and Tauriel made to follow through with their original plan and retreat back the way they had come from, so that they could lie in wait until the discovery of the general's body would result in the inevitable fight for dominance amongst those of lower rank. She had yet to step out from the protective shadow of the tent when a sharp crack echoed through the night, followed by a blood curdling scream. Kíli's hand closed around hers and he jerked her back down, holding onto her with an iron grip while they scanned the area for the source of the noise.

Kíli's sharp intake of breath made her follow his line of sight towards the prisoners they had seen from above. Apparently, one of the goblins had decided that now would be a good time for some torture and was currently towering over the hunched form of one of the prisoners, a long whip dangling from his hand.

Tauriel anticipated Kíli's next action even before he had time to to move and turned to grab him by his shoulders, partly to steady him, but also to render him incapable of movement. "Don't," she said. "If we interfere now, they will all be on us within seconds. We won't stand a chance."

Her own heart was bleeding at having to make this decision, but she had to be the voice of reason in this matter. Kíli looked at her, his eyes wide with anguish. "Look at him though. He's barely more than a boy."

He was right. From a distance it wasn't possible to tell much about the prisoner, but the slight stature strongly suggested that he was quite young indeed. Tauriel ground her teeth together. "Kíli, we can't," she insisted, even if every fiber of her being wanted to go and drive her sword through that abominable, torturing brute.

Kíli's mouth had formed a hard line at her words, a stubborn glint in his eye. "What if we create a distraction?" he tried.

"That would have to be a very big distraction indeed... " Tauriel muttered, her mind going the different possibilities. Then she shook her head. "But no. It's too dangerous. We have to wait until they discover the bodies – that will divert their attention enough for us to try and get to the prisoners."

"Well then," Kíli said, a dangerous edge to his voice, "I suppose we will have to give them a little hint then."

Tauriel frowned and made to ask what on earth he was talking about, but then saw his gaze settle on one of the torches placed at random intervals for purposes of lighting. "Kíli, don't," she said again, but with much less conviction than before.

She reminded herself that she was not in Mirkwood anymore, serving a king who would tolerate all kinds of evil as long as it did not pertain directly to him or his people. She was free to make her own decisions and if those involved standing up against a small army of goblins with only her reckless husband at her side, well, then there was no one to stop her.

Kíli was watching her intently and when he saw her resolution waver and then finally crack, his expression relaxed into a wide grin. She huffed at him, rolling her eyes.

"It still remains a great risk," she said. "But go ahead, I've got your back."

His expression turned from teasing to gentle. "I know you do."

She smiled at him then and he turned to disappear around the side of the tent, returning a minute later with a torch in his hand. "Ready?" he asked her.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

And with that he bent down, holding the torch against the bottom of the tent wall. As soon as the flames caught onto the canvas, he dropped the torch and they retreated into the shadows, seeking cover behind an overturned, empty cart. The heavy drapes of the tent burned slowly, but soon enough the fire was sufficiently large to attract a crowd, like a beacon in the darkness.

When an uproar went through the growing group of goblins gathered in front of the tent – no doubt provoked by the discovery of the bodies within – Tauriel and Kíli abandoned their hiding place and carefully made their way over to the prisoners. Again, they encountered few obstacles on their way and ducked out of the sight of the few goblins that came running in the opposite direction.

For once, things appeared to be working in their favor, Tauriel thought. As was to be expected, that was the point when things began to go downhill. Upon reaching the poles where the prisoners had been tied up, Kíli immediately went to kneel beside the limp firm of the torturer's victim, checking the small body for signs of life. Meanwhile, Tauriel tried to assess the situation. She counted four other prisoners, two of which were very obviously dead. She was just about to reach out to the one closest to her, when a movement to her left caught her attention. The remaining prisoner lifted his head, dazed, bloodshot eyes struggling to focus on her. He drew a shuddering breath when he took in her appearance and saw that she was not one of his capturers.

His lips moved, but he was barely able to produce a sound. Quickly, Tauriel kneeled down and brought her face closer to his so that she might hear him better. "My daughter," he croaked. "Save her."

Tauriel whipped her head around to look over at Kíli and the other prisoner and indeed, when he pulled back the hood of the brown cloak, long dark curls tumbled from it, framing a lovely face with equally dark skin. Not a boy then, but a girl. Her eyes were closed, but she was beginning to stir as Kíli continued to assess her injuries. Her cloak had been ripped open at her back, revealing bloodied gashes in her clothing, the fabric torn where she had been struck with the goblin's whip.

Tauriel's jaw clenched at the sight and she turned back to the man in front of her. "We will save you both," she said, determination muting all her doubts about what might still go wrong with this mission. "You and anyone who is still alive."

She looked at the other prisoners, but the man shook his head. "All dead," he croaked, his voice breaking. "My sons."

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry." Trying not to let her emotions get in the way of her actions, she leaned forward and began to work on the ropes tying the man to the wooden post. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kíli do the same for his daughter.

They were almost done when an angry snarl echoed through the night. Tauriel was on her feet in an instant, her eyes wide with horror as she watched the goblin torturer from before come running out of the shadows, charging towards Kíli and the girl. In his wake followed five more goblins. She pulled her bow from her back, but before she had time to take aim, the goblin had already raised his monstrous whip, aiming for the barely conscious girl as he brought it down hard.

Time seemed to slow itself down as Tauriel watched Kíli throw himself sideways and in front of the girl, shielding her from the goblin's attack. The tails of the whip hit him while he was still in mid-air, the sound of their contact with his body causing bile to rise in Tauriel's throat. He fell to the ground, the force of the impact strong enough to render him unconscious.

Several things happened at once then. Tauriel finally managed to take aim properly, and released her arrow. It pierced the arm of the goblin, who had raised it with he clear intention to strike again. The brute roared in pain, but did not have time to locate the source of this attack before something big came flying out from among the shadows, knocking the stunned goblin off his feet.

With her next arrow already place, Tauriel froze, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. From the tumble of limbs on the ground, she finally managed to distinguish a vaguely familiar shape – a large, furry shape, that was. It was, without doubt, the Mirkwood wolf Kíli had saved during their squabble with the spiders. And he was attacking the goblin with vigor, clearly intent on burying his sharp teeth in the creature's ugly neck.

Tauriel snapped out of her momentary stupor. This particular enemy was taken care of, but there were still others to contend with. She shot a few arrows in quick succession, taking out the handful of goblins which had accompanied the one with the whip. The instant in which her last arrow hit its mark, she turned to where Kíli was huddled on the ground. Rationally, she knew that his injuries could be nowhere near fatal, but still her chest felt tight with fear of what she might find.

She forgot to breathe for a few seconds when she saw that the wolf had apparently finished with the goblin and was now standing over Kíli's still unconscious form. She started towards the pair, but froze in place when the wolf lifted his big, furry head to fix her with a dangerous glare accompanied by a threatening growl. Her instinct to come to Kíli's aid was overwhelming, but she forced herself to remain completely still and assess the situation. Once she really looked at the wolf and took in his stance, she realized that he was not a threat to Kíli – he was protecting him.

She stretched out her arms in a gesture which she hoped would convey that she was not about to attack. "I mean you no harm," she said placatingly. "You saved him from getting hurt any more than he already was. For this I will always be in your debt."

The wolf stared at her for a long moment and then, finally, relaxed. Turning back to Kíli, he proceeded to push his enormous muzzle into the side of the dwarf's neck, nudging him gently. It took a minute or two, but then Kíli stirred, turning his head from side to side. Immediately, Tauriel stepped closer, fighting down the urge to push the wolf aside in order to be able to kneel beside her husband as he regained consciousness. Instead, she hovered at the wolf's shoulder, peering at Kíli from above.

His eyelids fluttered, then opened. Most would have been terrified by finding a gigantic animal's head only inches from their own face upon waking, but Kíli barely flinched and then relaxed. "Oh," he said as if this were the most normal thing in the world, "it's you."

The wolf stared at him for a moment longer and then, apparently satisfied with what he was seeing, looked over his shoulder at Tauriel and proceeded to step aside so that she could finally tend to her husband. Dropping to her knees beside Kíli, she quickly checked his injuries. He had a set of ugly gashes running along the right side of his torso from where the whip had torn through his clothing. Tauriel was doing a mental inventory of the herbs she would need to treat this type of wound while she also checked his head for injuries. The hair at the back of it was matted with dark blood, but it wasn't much and when she looked into his eyes they were clear, dispelling her fears of a more serious damage.

As relief washed over her she felt tension leave her body and she sagged forward, leaning her forehead against his while she exhaled a shaky breath. Kíli's hands came up and he cradled her face, lifting her head so that he might look at her. "I'm alright," he assured her. "Are you?"

Nodding jerkily, she covered his hands with her own. "I am now," she replied.

She desperately wanted to kiss him, to convince herself with one more sense than sight and sound that he really was alright, but knew that there was no time. They were still in the middle of an enemy camp and could not afford to lower their defenses any more than they already had. As if to remind them of that fact, there was a loud crash from somewhere close by, followed by what Tauriel interpreted as goblins cheering.

Quickly she pushed herself off the ground, pulling Kíli with her and into an upright position. They observed that, not all that far from where they were now standing, the one fire which they had ignited previously had turned into many – leave it to an army of goblins to burn down their own camp. As they stood and stared at the mayhem spreading through the camp, the wolf came up beside them, looking on with similar puzzled interest. All three of them turned at the sound of steps behind them. The man held prisoner by the goblins had meanwhile finished freeing both himself and his daughter and the pair were now cautiously advancing upon them.

"Thank you," he said, his dark eyes warm with gratitude, "for saving our lives. I am Las'ol and this is my daughter Surah. We shall both be forever in your debt."

Tauriel inclined her head. "There is no need for that," she returned. "Also, we still have quite a long way to go before we can consider ourselves safe." They were, after all, still standing in the middle of a goblin encampment.

"Speaking of which," Kíli remarked, swiveling his head around to look in the opposite direction once more, "I believe we may have drawn some unwanted attention. We had best get out of here soon."

Following his gaze, Tauriel's stomach gave a small lurch when she saw a group of goblins separate themselves from the rest, lead by one particular individual who was shouting and pointing in their direction.

"Las'ol, can you fight?" she asked without taking her eyes of the advancing aggressors, her muscles already tensing in anticipation of what was to come.

Las'ol nodded grimly and kneeled down to remove a blade from the grasp of one of the dead goblins. "It will be my pleasure," he said with murderous intent coloring his voice, moving in front of his daughter.

"Excellent." Tauriel gripped her weapons tightly. This was not going to be pretty, but as things were, they might actually stand a chance. Glancing right and left as Kíli, the wolf, and Las'ol took up stance beside her, she wondered if there had ever been a more oddly matched group of strangers fighting side by side. Probably not, but also, she reminded herself, none as deadly. And with that thought resonating in her mind, she threw herself into the fight, determined to see to the fact that they would all live to see another day.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

The glorious imaginings Kíli's younger self had entertained of what it felt like to fight in a battle had, bit by bit, been crushed by adulthood and his experiences on a variety of battlegrounds. For the most part, fighting was anything but glorious. It was dirty, it was ugly, it made every fiber of your body ache, but still you had to keep going, had to keep pushing yourself, because otherwise it would all have been for nothing.

What remained afterwards was, for the most part, not exhilaration and triumph, but sheer exhaustion and a stale taste in your mouth, brought about by an endless sequence of disturbing images your mind kept going over again and again and again. And then, of course, there were the feelings which those who survived had to contend with. Guilt. Shame. Grief.

As Kíli looked at the figures of Las'ol and Surah, huddled together on the ground, he wished that he did not understand their pain quite so well, that his experiences of the more recent past did not enable him sympathize with what it meant to find yourself alive after a battle while some of those you loved most dearly were not. When the lump in his throat began to make breathing difficult, he turned his head away with a small, choked sound.

Immediately, Tauriel's hand came up to rest on his shoulder, steadying him, anchoring him to the here and now so that he would not lose himself in those memories of a much bigger battle than the one they had just fought.

"We should help them bury them," she said, her lovely face marred by sorrow as she gazed upon the bodies of Las'ol's sons.

"We should," Kíli agreed with a sigh. "If a burial is their custom."

Las'ol and his children, they had learned in the meantime, were Haradrim, hailing from south of Gondor. Las'ol had not revealed much about their life there, but from what Kíli and Tauriel understood, the tribes living in this region were at constant war both with each other and the people of Gondor. Las'ol, fearing for the safety of his children and unwilling to participate in the ongoing warfare, had decided to travel north and seek a better life for them all.

Seeing that his kind would not be welcome in Gondor, they had set their eyes on a destination much further north still – upon learning that the city of Dale was being rebuild, Las'ol had hoped to find refuge there. Sadly, his sons would never reach the city, the better life Las'ol had tried to secure for them forever beyond their reach.

Suddenly unable to watch as Tauriel approached the Haradrim and his daughter to offer their condolences and their assistance, Kíli turned away, thinking that he might as well have a look around and see if there was anything useful left in the big heap of rubble that had once been the goblin encampment. Seeing that the vile creatures had taken it upon themselves to burn half of their camp and that those who had not died in either their fire or in the resulting fight had fled the scene, taking with them anything they deemed valuable, the chances at finding something worth taking were very slim, but you never knew.

As he looked up, however, and squinted against the harsh light of an almost mockingly cheerful summer's day, he found himself literally face to face with the Mirkwood wolf, the animal standing so close to him that he could feel its warm puffs of breath against his skin.

He gave a small start, but then smiled, reaching out to scratch the wolf begin his big ear as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have a giant wolf sneak up you and invade your personal space.

"Hello," he said affectionately, "where did you run off to?"

After fighting their way out of the camp, their small party had hidden somewhere close to what was quickly becoming a battlefield, deciding that it would be wisest to lay low and let the goblins get on with their self-destruction. At dawn, Kíli and Tauriel had done a final sweep of the camp to ensure that Las'ol and Surah could safely return to retrieve the bodies of their fallen family members.

The wolf, meanwhile, had disappeared amongst the few trees growing in the area without looking back. For some reason though, Kíli had not doubted for even a second that he would be back before long.

Now, his canine companion cocked his big, furry head to one side, a long, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth almost goofily. His eyes twinkled as he gazed at Kíli.

"Ah. You went hunting," Kíli said and moved his hand to the back of the animal's neck, running his fingers through the thick, shaggy fur. "You must have been quite hungry, weren't you? For how long did you go without food while watching out for us?"

He could not have explained how the communication between him and the wolf worked had someone asked him to put it into words. He just knew that it _did._ A slight bob of the head, a meaningful stare, a low growl and he knew exactly what his new friend wanted to convey. Maybe it should have spooked him, but it simply felt too right, too familiar to work himself into a state of anxiety over it.

"I don't even know what to call you," he said absentmindedly as he continued to pet the large animal. He realized that he felt much calmer now, the sharp sting of watching Las'ol and Surah in their grief having lessened to a dull throb. The wolf pushed his head more firmly into Kíli's palm, letting him know that he, too, was comforted by his caresses.

"Drauchon."

Tauriel's voice startled Kíli and he turned his head to find her standing next to him once more, her eyes trained on the wolf. She and the animal regarded each other not with the same kind of odd familiarity which he experienced when locking eyes with his furry companion, but with the respect and loyalty of fellow warriors. He did not know exactly what had happened in those few minutes after he had been knocked out by the goblin, but whatever had transpired appeared to have been sufficient to erase any reservations Tauriel might have had about the wolf.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, trying to make sense of what she had just said.

"Drauchon," she repeated, smiling shily. "You said you did not know what to call him. It means 'wolf brother'."

A wide grin spread across Kíli's face and he turned back to the wolf, ruffling the mass of shaggy fur on the side of his neck. "Drauchon," he repeated thoughtfully. "I think it's perfect. What about you?"

The animal bobbed its large head once and proceeded to lick the side of Kíli's face with a very wet tongue. Kíli squirmed and chuckled as he wiped his face on the sleeve of his tunic. "I take it that means you like it."

 _Wolf brother_. The name could not have been more fitting indeed. He still could not explain or even properly describe the connection he felt to Drauchon, but clearly the feeling was mutual, the golden eyes of the wolf shining with affection when he looked at Kíli.

Kíli swallowed, his chest suddenly tight with feeling. Standing there, amongst the debris of a former encampment of their enemy, the acrid smell of burnt bodies stinging his nose, he experienced a sense of completeness he had for a long time thought beyond his grasp. With Tauriel's gentle hand on his shoulder and the warm fur of Drauchon beneath his palms he felt like he belonged, like nothing that fate might throw in his way could make him lose his balance.

And just like that, Drauchon became a part of his chosen family. He half feared that Tauriel might have objections to the company of the wolf, but when they decided to travel north along the base of the Misty Mountains to investigate some of the markings on the map Tauriel had taken from the goblin General there was not even a moment's hesitation on her part about whether or not Drauchon would accompany them on their quest.

"What?" she asked when Kíli grinned widely at her after she had detailed her plan to him over their campfire as they held watch over Las'ol and Surah while they rested. He could tell from her self-conscious smile though, that she knew exactly how happy her inclusion of Drauchon was making him.

He pulled her closer with a hand at the back of her neck, slanting his lips across hers, his grin never entirely leaving his face as he did so. She rolled her eyes at him and quickly went back to pouring over the map. The blush creeping up the side of her neck and her own, happy smile did however not escape his notice. Mahal, how he loved her.

They parted ways with Las'ol and Surah on the day after the battle, the two of them headed for Lothlórien in the hope that the Galadhrim would welcome them into their home and give them a chance to recover from their captivity. Equipped with a letter Tauriel had written to Ingwen, detailing the events of the days past and vouching for the honorable character of the two strangers, Tauriel had no doubt that the Haradrim would be given a warm welcome.

Unfortunately, making sure that they would be comfortable was all they could do for the pair. There was nothing that might ease the pain of losing half their family – Kíli knew that all too well. And so it was with a heavy heart that he gazed at the backs of Las'ol and Surah as they set out on their journey to the Goldenen Forest.

"May they find some solace under the Mallorn trees," Tauriel muttered beside him, like a quiet prayer for those two lost souls.

Kíli took her hand in his, lifting it to press a kiss to its back. "Aye," he said. "If there is any place where that is possible, this should be it."

He tore his gaze away from the Haradrim and looked over his shoulder. Drauchon was waiting for them a few yards away, a gentle breeze ruffling his thick fur as he stood up straight, anticipation radiating off him. "Someone's impatient to get back on the road," Kíli remarked, holding the wolf's steady gaze.

"We'd best get to it then," Tauriel returned, letting go of Kíli's hand to adjust the weapons strapped to her back. There had been no sign whatsoever of hostile activities since they had returned to what was left of the goblin camp, but still they were evn more watchful than normally. There was no certainty what exactly it was that the goblins had been doing here and so they could not be sure whether some of them would not be back sooner or later.

As it was, however, their journey remained blissfully undisturbed by the nasty creatures. They continued to follow the river Silverlode, each step bringing them closer to the Misty Mountains. The marking on the map nearest to their current position lay several miles to the north and Kíli estimated that they would reach it by nightfall the following day. Although, if they continued at the pace Drauchon was currently setting for them, it might be quite a bit sooner.

Kíli would not have needed his special connection with the wolf to see that he was quite happy. Often, he would trot beside Kíli, playfully bumping into him from time to time. When his sensitive nose caught an interesting scent, he would bound away excitedly, returning with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth once his curiosity was satisfied. You would never have guessed that their mission entailed something as unpleasant as tracking down goblins – judging by Drauchon's antics they might simply be enjoying a field trip in lovely summer weather.

Kíli understood, though. After the events back in Mirkwood, Drauchon had been on his own, robbed of his family, his pack. He did not know when the wolf had begun tracking him and Tauriel, but suspected that he had been waiting for them at the Lothlórien border for quite some time. He experienced a twinge of guilt at the thought, even though he had been entirely unaware of Drauchon's presence at the time. Nobody liked being all alone in the world. For a wolf, though, it was downright unnatural.

Now, Drauchon had chosen a new pack for himself. An elf, a dwarf and a wolf – they had to be just about the oddest pack to ever have walked the earth, but a pack they were. In Drauchon's eyes at the very least and he appeared so thoroughly satisfied with that fact that Kíli felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth every time he looked at the animal.

Upon reaching the mountains, the three of them turned north. For a moment, Kíli felt tempted to follow the river to its legendary source, the Mirrormere. If only to show Tauriel the stars it was said to reflect both day and night. He decided against it, though. The Mirrormere was were Durin had seen an image of himself with a crown upon his head, prompting him to found the kingdom of Moria and begin the royal line from which Kíli was descended. He knew it was cowardly, but seeing that he had turned his back on his own heritage, he'd rather not visit a place that brimmed with the history of his own people. Also, he was afraid of what he might see if he dared to look into the lake himself...

And so they stayed at the base of the mountains, keeping the vales of the river Anduin to their right and the mountains themselves to their left. The terrain was difficult at best with long, barren stretches where they were far more exposed than they would have liked. During the day, the sun shone mercilessly from a blue sky, making Kíli long for the shade of trees or a cool breeze at the very least.

When they stopped for a break around noon on the second day of their journey, his throat felt parched and his clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. Tauriel, meanwhile, looked as fresh as a beautiful morning in spring. Wordlessly she passed him one of the canteens they had filled with water before departing from the Silverlode, anticipating that their access to fresh water might be limited for the next couple of days.

"What's wrong?" he asked her after taking a deep drink. Her gaze, he noticed, was fixed on the mountains, a slight frown crinkling her forehead.

She did not reply right away, but unfolded the goblin map instead, studying it. "I simply cannot fathom what the goblins would want here of all places," she finally said. Gesturing around the area in general she added, "There is nothing here. We're not far from the next marking on the map now and I'm beginning to fear that we are walking into a trap."

Kíli took the map from her hands and held it up to look at it more closely, careful not to put too much strain on the already very worn piece of parchment. "This marking is black," he said, "whereas the one where we found the encampment at the Silverlode is red. What do you think that means?"

Tauriel pursed her lips. "I couldn't say. We have seen too little to discern any kind of pattern." She looked at the map once more. "The next marking north of here is another red one. It appears to be somewhere close to the source of the Gladden."

Kíli frowned. "There's a pass there, I think."

"There is?" Tauriel asked, tracing the spot they were talking about with her finger on the map.

"It's a minor one and not very well-known. I have never used it myself, but I heard Thorin discuss it with Balin and Dwalin when they were planning our journey."

"Hmm." Tauriel considered this for moment. "Maybe the red markings are spots which the goblins use to waylay travelers. That is what they did to Las'ol and his family after all."

"It sounds plausible," Kíli agreed, trying not to think too much about the cruel fate the Haradrim had suffered at the hands of their capturers. "A mountain pass would be an ideal place to lure travelers into a trap."

Tauriel nodded, although Kíli could tell that she was not all to pleased about being right about this. Neither was he. "Which leaves the question," she said, "what the black markings mean."

Grimly, Kíli stared into the distance, the unforgiving light of the sun stinging his eyes. "I say we go and find out just that."

The location indicated by a black symbol on the goblin map turned out to be what they supposed was meant to be a watchtower. It had clearly been built a long time ago but showed some signs of relatively recent use. When they got there, however, it was deserted.

"Well, that's a bit of a letdown, isn't it?" Kíli commented drily after kneeling down beside the remains of a campfire. The ashes were cold and scattered and he would have guessed that no one had been there for months.

"I'm not sure I would call it that," Tauriel returned. "We should be glad that there is no one here to fight."

He could tell from the slight frown on her face though that she, too, would not have been entirely displeased with an opportunity to slay some goblins. Well, there would be none of that today, it seemed. Drauchon, meanwhile, took one sniff of the long extinguished fire and sat down beside it with a disappointed huff.

Suppressing an affectionate grin, Kíli spun once around his own axis, surveying their surroundings. "I cannot really hold it against them that they left," he said. "There is nothing here to watch over. Nothing at all."

"I wouldn't say that," Tauriel muttered, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.

Kíli followed her gaze. He could see the Anduin in the distance and Mirkwood beyond that. If he strained his eyes he was able to make out some structure protruding from amongst the trees. " What am I looking at?" he asked.

"That," Tauriel said with a slight shudder, "is the fortress known as Dol Guldur." She looked down, poking at the ashes on the ground with the toe of her boot. "In all likelihood this watchtower has been used to communicate with the fortress in the past."

"I suppose it wasn't the weather they were signaling to each other about," Kíli commented grimly.

Tauriel gave a dry little laugh. "Probably not." She looked around the decrepit tower, pulling up her shoulders as if to suppress a shiver. "I cannot say exactly why they needed this place, but I do not have a good feeling about it. Let's not linger."

"Definitely not," Kíli agreed. He turned to look at Drauchon for confirmation and saw that he had already risen to his feet, ready to leave when they were.

As Tauriel led them away from the tower, Kíli noticed that Drauchon was keeping close to him, his shoulder brushing against him as they walked. The wolf, too, appeared to sense the shadow left behind by whatever evil had taken place here. He let his fingers trail lightly through the animal's golden fur, a gesture that never failed to have a calming effect on either of them.

"I say we make for the southern arm which flows into the Gladden," Tauriel called from up ahead. "The area around the rivers should be more heavily vegetated and it will be easier to make camp there. Also it's still at enough of a distance to the next marking on the map to be safe from whatever mischief is underway there."

Kíli wholeheartedly agreed, looking forward to sleeping on ground that was not rocky and to being somewhat protected from sight and the natural elements. With this prospect in mind, hiking in the hot summer sun was much easier to bear. Still, when they finally reached their destination, he could barely restrain himself from tearing off his clothing and going for a desperately needed, refreshing dip in the water.

In the end, he settled for splashing his face and arms with the deliciously cool water while Tauriel was busy setting up their camp for the night and lighting a small fire over which they would later cook whatever Drauchon brought back from securing the perimeter. There were some very tangible advantages to traveling with a wolf, he found – Elves did not eat a lot of meat and hunted only occasionally, but Tauriel never objected to the game Drauchon so reliably provided them with and so for the past few days Kíli had had the luxury of settling down with a belly much fuller than it would have been had dinner consisted of nuts, fruits, and, of course, the daily ration of Lembas bread.

"Thank you for that, Drauchon" he said when, later that night, he reclined against the firm, furry body of the wolf stretched out behind him, patting his comfortably full stomach. Drauchon gave a satisfied little grunt in reply, and shifted, so that Kíli could lean his head against his big, muscular shoulder.

They often sat like this in the evening, the wolf basking in the affection Kíli was showing him. Kíli had seen Drauchon fight and he knew that in battle he was a vicious killer and, quite frankly, more than a bit scary. During those hours around the campfire, however, the Mirkwood wolf rather resembled a pet dog. A very large one at that, but a pet dog nonetheless. What surprised Kíli even more than that fact was how easily being this affectionate with the animal came to him, as if they had known each other their whole lives.

As he settled into his position, Kíli caught Tauriel's gaze. She was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire, her plate with the remainder of her dinner on her lap. When she was sure that she had his attention, a sly look crossed her face. "You know," she said, "not so long ago it used to be me you would cuddle with beside a campfire."

Despite his general sleepiness he grinned teasingly. "Are you jealous?"

She huffed in mock indignation. "As if. For as long as I still walk on two legs I am quite confident that I shall not be replaced quite so easily."

Drauchon gave a good-natured little growl at her words even as Kíli's grin widened. "Oh, I can think of a small number of other qualities aside from your proficiency at walking upright that render you altogether irreplaceable to me."

She threw a rabbit's bone at him for that. Despite their lighthearted banter, there was a barely tangible tenseness to the silence which followed, causing Kíli to suspect that there was at least a little bit of truth to his original assessment of Tauriel's feelings. He could not deny that ever since they had left Lothlórien the more bodily aspects of their relationship had suffered greatly, and this was not exclusively due to the lack of privacy that necessarily came with being on the road. It wasn't just the two them anymore and this entailed a number of changes.

Kíli angled his head back so that he could glance at Drauchon. "How do you feel about doing another sweep of the area? Just to be on the safe side."

He could have sworn that the wolf actually rolled his eyes at him before rising from the ground so abruptly that Kíli lost his balance and landed on his back with a small curse. Clearly satisfied with his accomplishment, Drauchon trotted off towards the other end of the small clearing they were camped in, sending a not entirely serious glare over his shoulder before disappearing in the undergrowth.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Kíli looked after the wolf in bewilderment. Shifting his gaze to Tauriel, he saw that there were actual tears of suppressed laughter in her eyes.

"Fine, go ahead then," he grunted, letting his head fall back against the ground while his wife erupted into peals of laughter which echoed through the growing darkness around them.

When she appeared more in control of herself, her shoulders merely shaking with a slight chuckle now, Kíli rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one arm and patting the ground beside him with the other. "When you are quite done, will you come and join me already?"

Tauriel used the sleeve of her tunic to dab at the corners of her eyes and gave a final little laugh before crossing over to his side of the fire where she sat down beside him, close, but not quite touching. He would have none of that, though, and grabbed her around the waist, rolling onto his back with her on top of him. They stilled, their noses almost touching, her hands on the ground beside his head, his on the small of her back, fingers digging into skin through layers of clothing.

"I missed this," he breathed, pulling her body even more firmly against his, allowing her to feel just _how_ _much_ he had missed her.

Her eyes fluttered closed at their intensified contact, her lips parting in a silent gasp. "Because I am irreplaceable to you?" she whispered, angling her head to the side so that their mouths were aligned with each other perfectly, her lips hovering no more than an inch above his.

A delectable shudder ran through Kíli's body, a low growl emenating from the back of his throat. "Because you are _everything_ to me." And with that he closed that final inch separating them and brought his lips to hers in a bruising kiss, intent on making up for lost time. For nothing and no one compared to _her_ and the feeling of holding her in his arms, knowing, without a doubt, that she was his and he was hers, for better or worse.


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: I have been waiting years to write this chapter and the ones that follow. Seriously. Years. A lot of the stuff that happened in this story was added on the spur of the moment, but not this. I always knew that this was where we'd end up eventually – which doesn't make it any less insane. Here we go._

 **Chapter 34**

Kíli awoke to the sound of thunder. Not the type of thunder that tore through the silence of the night like the deafening beat of a drum, but the kind that began as a low rumble, stretching into a threatening growl. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up instantly and a sense of ill boding caused him to sit up and look around in alarm.

Tauriel was on her knees beside him, her long hair whipping around her concerned face in the wind which was picking up by the second.

"Where's Drauchon?" Kíli asked immediately, a sudden tightness in his chest bringing him to his feet. There was no sign of the wolf from what he could see in the blackness of the night, their fire having burnt down to its embers.

"He has not been back," Tauriel said, confirming his fears. "I am sure he will be soon though, once he realizes that a storm is brewing."

She did not sound overly convinced. As if on cue, they heard a howling in the distance, the sound of which made Kíli's blood run cold.

"He's in trouble," he said, and wasted not a moment to reach for his cloak, his sword, and his bow, fastening the items to his body.

Tauriel did not attempt to stop him, her own weapons already in hand. Drauchon was one of theirs now, and if he needed their help they would come, even if that meant running head first into an unknown danger.

The wind was still gaining in strength when they left the small clearing, the sky above them pitch black. They headed north, for that was where Drauchon's howl had come from. Kíli was grateful that they had crossed the river before making camp, for otherwise they would have had to do so now, in complete darkness and with a thunderstorm gathering over their heads.

While they rushed through the undergrowth, there was no other sound to be heard aside from their own, quickened breaths and the continued rolling of thunder in the distance. Refusing to speculate whether that was a good or a very bad sign, Kíli gripped his sword more tightly, pushing his body to its own limits in order to keep up with the pace Tauriel was setting for them. Even though he was impatient to keep moving, it was probably a good thing when eventually he got to take a little break while Tauriel climbed a tree in order to look for any visual clues as to where they would need to go.

After a minute or two during which Kíli had to bite his own tongue in order not to shout up at her and ask what she was seeing, Tauriel dropped back down beside him, making barely a noise as her feet hit the forest ground.

"There are a few campfires northwest of here, closer to the mountains," she said, keeping her voice very low. "It is not much to go by, but I am afraid it is the only lead we have got."

Kíli frowned, looking into the general direction they were talking about. They were getting closer to the next marking on their map, which could only mean one thing.

"Goblins?" he asked, his expression grim.

"There is only one way to find out," Tauriel replied.

He nodded, letting go of a breath he had not even known he had been holding. "We'd better be on our way then."

He had already taken half a step when Tauriel caught him by his wrist and forced him to turn back around.

"He is my friend," she said, stepping so close that Kíli had to lean his head back to continue holding her gaze, "and I know he is much more than that to you. But in the event that something... _terrible_ has happened to him—"

"No," Kíli interrupted her, his jaw stubbornly set. "He'll be fine. You've seen him fight. He won't be taken down so easily."

"He won't," Tauriel agreed, "but still. I need you to promise me that should worse come to worst, you will not lose your head. I cannot lose you, do you understand?"

Her tone was as urgent as her eyes were pleading and even though the stubborn, reckless part of his personality wanted to enter into an argument with her, he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he pulled his arm free from her grasp and brought his hand up to the back of her neck, pulling her face down towards his. Their kiss was as bruising as it was quick, desperate hands grabbing fistfulls of each other's clothing.

"I understand you perfectly," Kíli said when he pulled away, allowing himself a final moment where he caressed Tauriel's soft cheek with a calloused thumb before letting his hand fall to his side.

"Good," she nodded earnestly and shifted as she adjusted her weapons on her back. "Follow me then. If we are lucky, the storm should help conceal our approach."

That much was certainly true, for anyone ought to have found it difficult to see or hear them approach with the weather being as bad as it was and quickly deteriorating. The rain, which had meanwhile begun to fall in large, heavy droplets, was however also making it difficult for Kíli and Tauriel themselves to navigate their journey through the forest. Kíli pulled the hood of his light Elven cloak more deeply into his face and focused his attention on his steps, trying his best not to slip on the muddy, uneven ground.

Upon drawing closer to the foot of the mountains, they were able to see the faint glimmer of fires through the trees populating the area. They stopped to listen for any sounds that might give away the identity of those whom they were tracking, but there was nothing aside from the loud patter of the rain. Tauriel signaled for them to circle around for a bit so that they would approach whoever was camped out there from the east.

Kíli nodded and fell into step behind her, sword in hand. At that precise moment, the fires they had been headed for all went out at once, plunging the forest into utter darkness. Kíli promptly walked into Tauriel's back and her hand shot out to steady him. For a moment or two they just held onto each other, completely disoriented by the sudden absence of light.

"They know that we are here," Tauriel finally said, her voice so low that it barely carried above the sound of the rain. Still, the terror in it was impossible to overhear and Kíli gripped her more tightly.

"Let's fall back for now," he whispered. His need to make sure that Drauchon was safe was nearly overwhelming, but he knew that under those circumstances a rescue mission would be too dangerous. They would be no use their friend if they were captured as well – or worse.

He felt rather than saw Tauriel nod her consent. "You go first," she said. Clearly she wanted to be able to watch his back. Under different conditions he might have argued with her, but given that her sharp senses were much more useful at detecting any threat that might come at them from behind in the ever deteriorating weather, he let the matter rest.

Turning around slowly he made to lead them back the way they had come from – and found himself facing the pointy end of a blade.

Tauriel was still so close to him that he could feel her shift her stance as she raised her own weapons in defense.

"Drop your weapons," the owner of the sword pointed at Kíli's neck barked. Kíli couldn't see much of him, only that he was shorter than he was and unusually stout for a goblin. "Or else blood will be spilled. And it will not be ours."

At his words shadows closed in on them from all sides – they were surrounded. When Tauriel failed to respond immediately, the sword at Kíli's neck was pushed a little closer still, it's tip just grazing the skin below his jaw. He held his breath, hoping against hope that Tauriel had a trick up her sleeve that would somehow get them out of this pickle. But of course there were limits to even her abilities and he had to admit that, had their places been reversed and a sword pointed at _her_ gorgeous neck, he would not have risked a fight either. He slowly exhaled when he heard the clatter of her weapons against the ground and let go of his blade as well, letting the hilt slide from his fingers.

"That's better," the voice at the other end of the blade commented and it's smugness made Kíli wish he had not yet dropped his sword. "Tie them up before they get any ideas."

That last part was directed and the silent figures grouped around them. Promptly, both Kíli and Tauriel were seized roughly by the upper arms, their hands yanked behind their backs where they were tied together with scratchy pieces of rope that instantly chafed at Kíli's skin. He barely noticed, though, for his mind was elsewhere. Something was not right about this – for goblins their capturers were going about their task much too calmly. Where was all the snarling, the dropping of threats about what they would do to them once they had dragged them to their lair?

The rain chose that particular moment to stop and the clouds above them parted far enough to allow the pale, almost full moon to briefly illuminate the earth below. What Kíli saw in the silvery light made his blood run cold. The figures surrounding them were not goblins at all – they were Dwarves. And not just any Dwarves, no. On the breastplates of their armor they wore the sigil of none other than the King under the Mountain.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

As they were being marched out from among the trees and into a small clearing, Kíli's mind was utterly blank, his heart beating frantically in his chest. Dwarves. Of Erebor. And he and Tauriel amongst them. He could not even begin to list the number of complications which this might entail.

He kept his head low, his hood concealing most of his face. From the few glances he had managed to steal at the Dwarves, none of them were in the least bit familiar to him. They all wore the same uniform, indicating that they were soldiers and that they were not in the area for recreational purposes.

He thought it unlikely that they would recognize him, but still deemed it wiser to conceal as much of himself as possible for now. As far as he could tell, they had yet to figure out that he was a dwarf, too – he was taller than they were and, really, who would expect a Dwarf in Elven clothing to be running around the forest in the middle of the night? Maybe their ignorance of that fact would in some way or other come to be of an advantage.

Tauriel's thoughts appeared to be wandering down similar paths. " _Let me talk_ ," she muttered to him in Sindarin, counting on his ever growing proficiency in her native tongue. For this, she promptly earned herself a rough shove to her back from one of their capturers.

"None of that!" the one who was in charge bellowed at her.

Kíli had briefly struggled against his restraints when he had witnessed Tauriel stumble, but he quickly checked himself. If they were to conceal his identity, he would have to remain compliant. He did however manage to catch Tauriel's gaze for a split second to let her know that he had indeed understood the meaning of her words.

He longed to hold eye contact with her to see what she was making of all of this. Together, he was sure, they would have been able to figure out a way out of this mess. As it was, however, he was only able to register a certain bewilderment in her gaze paired with a distinct uncertainty over how to proceed. Kíli almost smiled at how precisely those feelings mirrored his own.

The Dwarves were no enemies of theirs, so they could not exactly fight their way out of this, at least not with their weapons. Words it would have to be then, but how to convince their capturers to let them go without revealing their true intent and, more importantly, who they were?

Upon reaching the center of the clearing, the Dwarves holding Kíli and Tauriel by their arms forced them to their knees. As pain shot up his right leg from landing on a sharp-edged rock, Kíli thought that they were being unnecessarily rough with them. Still, he fought down the urge to struggle and remained still, his gaze fixed on the ground in front of him.

" _Is this where you want them, Glorin_?" the Dwarf restraining Kíli asked the one who appeared to be in charge in Khuzdul.

Apparently it was and, satisfied that their prisoners were not putting up a fight, the Dwarves stepped back while the one called Glorin came to stand in front of them.

"If you were in my position, what would you make of this?" he asked, his tone vaguely threatening. "And do not even bother denying that you were trying to sneak up on our camp. We've been watching you."

Kíli felt Tauriel bristle at the fact that they had been watched without either of them realizing it. Still, when she answered her voice was perfectly calm, her tone one of diplomacy.

"It is true indeed that we were about to approach your encampment when your men seized us," she said. "However, we were unaware of your identity and assumed we were up against a group of goblins who—"

"Quiet!" the Dwarf barked at her, startling them both so much that Tauriel let her mouth snap shut with an audible pop while Kíli lifted his gaze far enough to be able to do a quick assessment of their adversary. The Dwarf was as broad as he was short, even though he lacked the kind of roundness that characterized Bombur, for example. Rather than with fat, his body was packed with muscles. His mop of red hair was complimented by a beard of similar shade and texture. His small, deep set eyes were fixed on Tauriel in a look of utter disdain.

"I do not trust anything that comes out the mouth of one of your kind," he spat. He turned to Kíli, who promptly dropped his gaze and went back to staring at the ground, his blood thrumming in his ears from anger at hearing Tauriel be spoken to in such a manner. "I was talking to you," their interrogator addressed him. "Even though I do not know that the word of a Dwarf consorting with an Elf is worth much more than that of said elf."

Well, there went their hopes of keeping Kíli's heritage a secret. Still, he kept his head down when he answered, letting his hood conceal most of his face in shadow. "She speaks the truth. Had we known who you were, we would not have strayed from our original path."

While it was certainly true that they would have avoided an encounter with the Dwarves had they been aware of their presence, there was however still the matter of Drauchon's disappearance. Kíli thought it best not to mention the wolf for now – if he, too, had been ambushed by the Dwarves they would find out sooner or later and if he hadn't... Well, then there was still a chance that he would come to their rescue should they need him to. Better not alert the Dwarves to his presence, then.

"What do you say," he addressed Glorin, trying for a tone of comraderie, "we forget about all of this and you let us get back to our journey. It was all just one big misunderstanding after all, so there's no need for all this, is there?"

"Since I do not believe a word of what you just said," the Dwarf sneered, "there absolutely is need for all of this."

Well, it had been worth a try. As Glorin stepped closer to him still, Kíli kept his gaze on the ground and tried to come up with a story that might convince the Dwarf to let them go. His mind remained unfortunately blank.

"Who are you?" Glorin finally asked him, the toes of his boots almost touching Kíli's knees. "And why are you out here with _her_?"

The lie came across his lips easily for he had had a few minutes to rehearse it while they were being shepherded into the clearing. "I am Torlig, son of Thog," he said. "I'm a simple blacksmith who is traveling from place to place, looking for honest work." He glanced at Tauriel. "As for my choice of a traveling companion... I am afraid that the truth is equally boring as my background. We met on the road and found that traveling together is much safer than alone – especially in areas infested with goblins."

"She's an _Elf_ ," the Dwarf remarked as if that fact might have escaped Kíli's notice.

"She's not a _goblin_ ," Kíli returned. "That is all that counts for me."

"Where are you from?" his interrogator asked, changing tactics since clearly Kíli was not about to reveal anything else about his relationship with the Elf at his side. "Not the Iron Hills, or I would have heard of your family. The Blue Mountains, then?"

Kíli shook his head. Now it was time to get inventive. "My father died shortly before I was born. My mother went to Bree to find employment. I grew up there, away from the society of other Dwarven families."

The Dwarf was silent for long enough that Kíli was beginning to hope he bought his lie. Then the boots suddenly vanished from his vision and he heard heavy steps crunch across dried leaves. He lifted and turned his head far enough to see that the Glorin had come to stand behind Tauriel.

"If she is just a fleeting acquaintance," he said, "then surely you won't mind all that much if I do this."

With that he delivered a forceful kick to Tauriel's lower back, sending her face first into the ground. Her yelp of pain was drowned by Kíli's outraged roar as he jumped to his feet. Immediately, two pairs of strong hands grasped him from behind and forced him back onto the forest floor. This time, he did not even feel the pain at the impact of his limbs with the ground.

"Maybe not merely traveling partners then," his interrogator commented dryly. Kíli had a right mind to strangle him, but when Tauriel shot him a glance and mouthed a silent 'no' as she pushed herself off the ground once more, he stopped struggling and reverted to glaring at their capturers instead.

"Who are you," Glorin asked again, his tone much harsher than before, "and why are you with her?"

Stubbornly, Kíli kept his lips pressed firmly together and stared straight ahead. If he repeated his lie, he would risk getting himself lost in contradictions. Telling the truth, on the other hand, was simply not an option. Consequently, he might as well say nothing at all and hope that this time it would be him who would be punished for his insubordination and not Tauriel.

"Well then," Glorin said after another few moments of strained silence, "if you will not speak to me, then maybe confronting the King will loosen your tongue."

Cold dread settled in the pit of Kíli's stomach. "The King of Erebor is _here_?" he asked before he could stop himself.

This could not be happening.

"In the flesh," Glorin replied, his satisfaction at the dread in Kíli's voice difficult to overhear, even though he could not possibly understand the true reason behind it. "Let's see if you know how to comport yourself before a king or if your meddling with Elves has caused you to forget what it means to be a Dwarf entirely."

Kíli did not have time to digest this latest bit of information before strong hands gripped him from behind and hauled him to his feet. Before he knew it, he and Tauriel were being marched upstream into the direction of the fires that were now visible through the trees once more.

As they walked, Tauriel managed to stumble into him once or twice and he knew that she was trying to catch his gaze. He could not look her in the eye, though, for he feared what she might see in his face if he did. Was this it? The end to everything they had struggled so hard to built for themselves over the past couple of months?

No matter what possible scenario he managed come up with – meeting Dáin could only result in disaster. Kíli had abandoned his duty to his people and if he knew Dáin at all then the Dwarf king would see him punished for what he had done. Also, there was the matter of Kíli's claim to the throne of Erebor to keep in mind.

Though Kíli had absolutely no desire to claim the crown that was rightfully his, he wondered how Dáin would react to the news of his survival. A potential rival for the crown could weaken any kingdom and an heir of Durin would undermine Dáin's authority in a way that the Dwarf king would in all likelihood not be comfortable with.

Out here, far away from Erebor and with only a handful of people to stand witness, who knew to what lengths the King of Erebor would go to ensure the stability of his own reign. Kíli doubted that he would be the first potential usurper to lose his life to the hands of a monarch intent on keeping the crown, nor the last.

Things really did look quite bleak for him at the moment. As they drew nearer to the Dwarven camp, though, a thought occurred to him that gave him at least a small sliver of hope. Except for on the battlefield in front of the gates of Erebor, Kíli could not remember having met Dáin in person since a big feast held in the Blue Mountains when Kíli had merely been a boy. Maybe the King of Erebor would not recognize him. Maybe, if he played his cards right, there was still a chance that he would be able to hold onto his story of Torlig, the blacksmith. It was unlikely, he well knew, but given that there were no other options open to him right now, he was willing to give it a try. He simply could not allow himself to give up just yet.

It did not take long for them to reach the base of the mountains – with his senses impeded by the storm, Kíli had not even realized how close they had been already. The source of the river turned out to be a large waterfall, the water pouring down from somewhere far above their heads in an almost deafening roar. Behind the waterfall, Kíli realized, caverns had formed amidst the rocks, and this was where the Dwarves had made their camp. Before Kíli had time to take more than a fleeting look around, he and Tauriel were pushed into one such cavern, two particularly stout Dwarves immediately stepping up behind them to block the exit.

Kíli watched with gritted teeth as Tauriel was forced to her knees once again by two of the Dwarves, a third one stepping forward to check the binds with which her hands were still tied behind her back. All the while she kept her gaze trained on him, urging him with her eyes not to do anything rash. The longer he watched, though, the more fiercely his blood began to boil at seeing Tauriel treated like this and his palms where beginning to hurt from digging his fingernails in so tightly in order to restrain himself. He was almost glad when Glorin appeared in his line of vision, effectively blocking Tauriel from his sight.

"What will happen to her?" Kíli asked, anger making his voice tremble ever so slightly.

Before he answered, Glorin stepped closer and reached around Kíli, cutting the ties on his wrists. Kíli lifted his hands, absenmindedly running his fingers over the places where angry red welts had formed on his skin.

"She will be restrained so that we can make sure she does not get any ideas while she's here," Glorin said in reply to his question. "If the King chooses to believe your tale, it will be for him to decide if she will be released or further detained."

Kíli did not bother to ask what would happen if he didn't.

At a nod from Glorin, Kíli was grabbed from behind once again and led from the cave. He could not bring himself to risk a final look at Tauriel for he knew that seeing her like this, restrained and subdued, would severely damage his ability to keep up a quiet front for his meeting with the King.

The Dwarves led him up a steep incline at the side of the waterfall and Kíli realized that there were more caverns further uphill, all of them concealed by the waterfall itself. The deafening roar of the water drained out most other noises as they climbed, but now and then he thought he heard voices, laughing, cheering, singing. It seemed that the King had a substantial amount of traveling companions.

When they reached a cavern at a rather dizzying distance from the ground, Kíli followed Glorin inside, the spray from the water hitting what was revealed of his face below his hood. He drew the fabric further towards his chin to conceal his features and kept his head down, repeating the same mantra that he had been going over in his head on their way up here. _I am Torlig, son of Thog, a simple blacksmith from the town of Bree. I know nothing of Kings and wars and treasures and only wish to be left alone and tend to my trade._

He was surprised by how quiet it was in the cavern, the thundering sound of the waterfall falling away behind them as they stepped further into the large hollow. He did not dare to look up, but from what he could tell with his limited vision, torches were lighting up the center of the cave, shadows dancing across the floor and rocky walls. Several voices had been engaged in conversation as they entered, but they all fell silent when the soldiers pushed Kíli forward and into the circle of light cast by the flames.

A hand twisting his arm brought him to his knees and he went without resistance, cowering on the ground in what he hoped was a display of fearful innocence.

This was it. He held his breath in anticipation of what was to come, praying to whatever benevolent forces had gotten him out of all the troubles he had managed to find himself in during his life that they would assist him one last time.

Glorin stepped in front of him, his back turned towards him. "My King," he said, "my men and I have apprehended this one not far from here, plotting how to invade our camp together with an elf-woman. Says he's a blacksmith from Bree, but if you ask me, I wouldn't believe anything that comes out of the mouth of a Dwarf in league with an Elf."

Footsteps approached from amongst the shadows, Kíli's heart thudding painfully with each echo caused by heavy boots against solid ground. Everything was quiet, the curious whispers that had arisen at Glorin's words ebbing away as the King approached the captive presented to him.

"That may be so," the King's voice sounded, disrupting the strained silence like a clap of thunder, "but he is a Dwarf nevertheless and as such deserves to be treated with a certain measure of respect." Sturdy boots appeared in Kíli's line of vision. "Rise. No harm shall come to you until your guilt is proven."

But Kíli found that he could not move, nor speak. In fact, he could barely draw a breath, a heavy weight sitting on his chest which slowly caused the edges of his vision to blur and blacken. For the voice addressing him did not belong to Dáin Ironfoot.

It belonged to Fíli.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Time stood still as Kíli continued to kneel on the floor of the cavern, the erratic drum of his own heart the only thing he heard for the moment.

It could not be.

Fíli was dead – Kíli had watched as Bolg had tossed him from the watchtower atop Ravenhill like a ragdoll, had heard the sickening thud when his body had hit the cold, frozen ground. He had cried for him, mourned and grieved for him, broken in both heart and soul until slowly, oh so slowly, he had learned to live without his brother by his side and had found the strength to move on with his life.

No, it could not be indeed.

And yet, _yet_ , it was without doubt Fíli's voice that had just addressed him, a voice he would recognize amongst thousands, a voice which still frequently spoke to him in his dreams.

Kíli felt his arms shake where they supported his body against the ground. He had yet to move or to speak – what could he possibly say, though, that would encompass the feelings, the confusion, the pain he was currently experiencing?

"Oi!" Glorin exclaimed, kneeling down next to him and grabbing the back of his neck in an effort to pull him up. "The King just gave you an order. Show some respect!"

"Leave him be!"

The authority in Fíli's voice left no room for questioning and Glorin promptly released his hold on Kíli. He slumped back onto the ground, barely able to hold himself upright.

In a more gentle tone, Fíli asked him, "What is your name?"

Kíli opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Whispers among the other occupants of the cavern were beginning to rise again and Glorin took the opportunity to step in once more.

"Says his name is Torlig, son of Thog. I've never heard of either, so unless he's—"

"It is not," Kíli got out, the effort of forcing those words past his lips leaving him rather dizzy. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, like he had not used it in years.

The whole cavern fell silent.

"What was that?" Glorin asked, completely put off his train of thought.

"I said," Kíli tried again, his voice a little firmer now, "it's not. My name. It isn't Torlig."

He heard Fíli's sharp intake of breath as his brother stepped closer to where he was still crouched on the the ground.

"Show yourself," Fíli commanded and only someone who knew him very well would have heard the slight tremor in his voice as he did so.

Kíli's heart hammered in his chest as he slowly raised his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he allowed his gaze to travel up his brother's body, greedily taking in all those familiar features which he had thought he would never lay eyes upon again. Strong arms that had embraced him so many times, calloused hands that he had been able to count on to grasp him should he ever slip, the broad shoulders he had sometimes rested his head on when they had kept watch together and he had felt his eyes grow heavy. Finally, his eyes settled on Fíli's face.

He found his brother to be the same as he had been when he had last seen him and yet so very changed. He looked polished, almost, his beard and long mane of hair braided in a manner much more elaborate than anything Kíli could ever remember seeing on him. His attire was that of a king and even though he did not wear a crown he might as well have, for everything about his posture spoke of absolute authority.

It was on his eyes, though, that Kíli dwelled the longest, for there was a haughtiness to his brother's gaze which he did not remember from their previous lives, the pale blue irises clouded by burdens Kíli could only guess at. Currently, those eyes were widened in complete shock, the skin on his brother's face as pale as if he had seen a ghost.

Well, in a way he had.

Slowly, Kíli lifted his hands and pulled back his hood, revealing his face not only to his stunned brother, but also to any bystanders.

"Kíli!" A shout of joyous disbelief echoed through the cavern and Kíli was nearly thrown off his balance when strong arms were thrown around his shoulders.

"Bofur. It's good to see you, too," he said with a wan smile, tearing his eyes away from the frozen form of his brother for a moment to look at the older dwarf as he held him at arm's length. Behind Bofur, he could see a number of other familiar faces emerge from the shadows. Bifur. Glóin. Dori and Ori. Dwalin. All of them wearing similar expressions of bewilderment.

"We searched for you," Bofur said, "for days. Turned over every bloody rock outside the mountain. When we couldn't find ye, we were ready to confirm your death. But this one—" he wriggled his finger in Fíli's direction, "—he wouldn't let us give up on you. So we turned over every bloody rock _again_. Still nothin'. Where on earth have ye been all this time, lad?"

Kíli did not answer and let his gaze travel back to his brother instead who was regarding them with an unreadable expression.

"I— I don't understand," Kíli got out, his thoughts running wild in his head. "I watched you fall. You _died_."

"Only he didn't," Bofur offered when Fíli maintened his shell-shocked silence. "Or at least he did not stay dead for very long – depending on how you look at it. Either way, it was a proper miracle. Earned himself a new nickname, your brother. Fíli the Deathless. Fantastic name for a king if you ask me."

Even more confused than before, Kíli turned his attention back to his brother. If he had been looking for answers to his many questions in his face, he did not find them there. Fíli's expression remained impassive, as if Bofur might have been talking not about him, but about someone else entirely.

Deciding that the details of Fíli's survival were outweighed in importance by other matters for the time being, Kíli used Bofur's arm for support as he pulled himself to his feet – his legs still felt like jelly pudding – and took the one step necessary to position himself right in front of his brother.

He was taller than Fíli, had been since a sudden growth spurt late in his adolescence. But here and now, he felt small standing opposite his brother, humbled by the miracle of finding him alive. Tears stung his eyes, but he refused to blink, refused to avert his gaze as he slowly lifted his hand to place his palm against his brother's chest. A small sob escaped his lips when he felt the beating of a heart against his skin, strong and steady.

"It really is you," he whispered, allowing himself to accept the reality of what was happening.

With that a spell appeared to break and Fíli moved, suddenly, his arms encircling Kíli's shoulders and crushing him against himself in an embrace that knocked all air from Kíli's lungs. Kíli did not care one bit. He was not even sure if he was laughing or crying as his own arms lifted to return Fíli's embrace with equal fervor and he clung to him as if he were drowning and Fíli the only thing that kept him from going under.

Kíli was dimly aware of Dwalin's grumbled "Give the King and his brother some privacy, will you?" and the thudding of steps as several pairs of feet retreated from the cavern. He did not even bother to lift his head from where he had buried his face against Fíli's shoulder, inhaling the scent which he associated with so many things. Companionship. Adventure. Home.

They stayed like this for a long time. Eventually, Fíli's hands loosened their hold on Kíli's back and traveled up his shoulders to cup one side of his head each. Fíli pulled back from their embrace and studied his younger brother's face.

"I knew it," he said, his voice choked with all the things he had to be feeling, "I just knew that you were too stubborn to die."

"I suppose I am," Kíli half laughed, half sobbed.

Fíli's hand moved to his cheek, cupping his face gently. Kíli leaned into the touch, the warmth of his brother's palm seeping into his skin, filling him from the inside. Fíli smiled as he watched his younger brother's reaction to his touch, the sadness in his eyes lifting somewhat. All too quickly, though, the lines on his face hardened once more as doubt and uncertainty returned.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his hand dropping from Kíli's cheek and coming to rest on his shoulder instead. "I was convinced that you had been taken by goblins and expected a demand for ransom any day. But nothing ever came. If it wasn't goblins, then who took you?"

Kíli shook his head, his lips pressed together firmly. "No one took me," he said haltingly.

"Then what happened? Where have you been?"

Fíli's eyes were wide with concern and Kíli knew he expected some tale in which his younger brother had been the victim of a series of misfortunes that had prevented his return to Erebor. He swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. He had known that the day might come where he would have to justify his actions to someone from his past – only that this someone would be his brother, he could never have guessed.

In the end, Fíli put the pieces together himself, thereby sparing Kíli the pain of saying the words out loud. Stepping back, Fíli looked at his brother – _really_ looked at him, his gaze traveling up and down his body, taking in every detail of his attire.

"What are you—" he began, his gaze flitting back and forth between Kíli's Elven cloak and boots. When realization hit, he fell silent and closed his eyes, his breath rushing out of him. "Glorin said they found you together with an Elf... It's _her_ , isn't it? You weren't taken. You _left._ You left to be with _her_."

When he opened his eyes again, the hurt Kíli saw in them cut him like the sharpest of blades. "It wasn't like that," he said, but even though that was the truth his voice sounded feeble to his own ears.

Fíli took another step back, the loss of his brother's warmth against his skin causing Kíli to shiver despite the fire that was burning only a few feet away.

"Was it not?" Fíli asked, his voice dangerously low. "Are you telling me you did not abandon your own people in the full knowledge that they would think you dead — that they would _mourn_ you _–_ to run after an elf-woman you conceived an ill-advised infatuation with?"

"No, I—" Kíli stuttered, "well, yes, If you put it like that, but—" He broke off and tried to collect his thoughts. He tried again. "Listen, it is not that simple. I thought you were dead – no, not just that, I _watched_ you die. I was half-mad with grief and when I learned that Thorin had fallen as well I... I just could not stay. I couldn't."

His eyes pleaded with his brother, begging for sympathy, for even the least bit of understanding for the situation he had found himself in after the battle. His heart bled when Fíli turned away, running a shaky hand over his suddenly tired face.

"You thought you would be made King," he observed with painful accuracy, "and ran away from the responsibility."

Kíli took a step closer to Fíli. "I am not cut out to be a king," he said. "You of all people should know that. I thought that by removing myself I was doing what is best for our people."

Fíli huffed and Kíli sensed his anger returning. "Don't you mean what is best for _yourself_? How awfully convenient that your decisions led you straight into the arms of that Elf you are so obsessed with."

"That is not why I did what I did," Kíli tried to defend himself. Yes, he had made a great big mess out of it all, but his motivation had never been as dishonorable as his brother was implying in his anger. But Fíli was not even listening to him, for he was far too wrapped up in his own pain and indignation.

"Do you think _I_ felt ready to be King?" he went on, ignoring Kíli's flinch at the raised volume of his voice. "Mahal, how many times did I wish I could simply escape from it all. But it is not that easy, not for me at least. I don't get to run off and fall into bed with the next best wench."

Kíli was on him in a flash, Fíli's eyes widening in surprise when he was grabbed by his collar, his younger brother's face suddenly dangerously close to his as he snarled at him.

"Now be very careful what you say," Kíli growled. "That is my _wife_ you are talking about."

"Your wife," Fíli repeated, utterly dumbfounded.

"That's right," Kíli said, loosening his hold onto his brother a little when he realized that he was quite close to strangling him. "Now you can call me all the things you like – and I probably deserve most of them – but I will not allow you to speak of her with disrespect."

"You are married to an Elf?" Fíli asked, his bafflement momentarily overriding bis anger.

"To Tauriel," Kíli confirmed. "But that didn't happen until very recently. I did not leave to be with her – I left because I could not stay, not without you by my side. Fíli, I was so sure that you were dead. If there had been even the slightest of doubts in my heart about that I would not have—"

He broke off, realizing suddenly how different things might have turned out. That in all likelihood he and Tauriel would not have ended up as husband and wife. He knew he was expected to regret his past choices and lament his ignorance of his brother's survival. But he found that he could not say the words, not if that meant voicing regret over the path his life had taken since the battle. "Well, we certainly wouldn't be standing here right now," he said instead.

Fíli studied him for a long moment. Kíli could see that he was still quite upset but at least the worst of his anger appeared to have subsided. Eventually his brother dropped his gaze and sighed.

"For all I know I was _supposed_ to be dead," he said. "For a moment, at least, everyone thought I was. But then... You heard them. They think it was a miracle. To be honest, though, I have no idea what happened."

"I do," Kíli said quietly.

It was true – he had figured it out the moment that Bofur had given his shortened account of Fíli's survival. It had felt as if the pieces of a large puzzle were finally coming together.

Fíli's eyes shot back to his, widened with surprise. "You do?"

Kíli took a deep breath. And then he told Fíli everything that had happened after he had watched him fall on Ravenhill on that fateful day, how Thranduil had pulled him back from the brink of death. He told him what he had seen in Gladriel's mirror, of the images which had filled the gaps in his memory between being stabbed by Bolg and waking up in a ruined house in Dale. What he did leave out was the part about meeting Faerveren and being bestowed with her gift of healing. His story was a lot to take in for Fíli as it was and he thought that just a little more and his brother would not believe another word that came out of his mouth.

"I was there, too?" Fíli asked when Kíli neared the end of his tale, his eyes wide with wonder. "In that— in that strange place?"

"You were," Kíli said. "When you just disappeared into thin air I thought that I had failed in taking you back with me, but now I believe that I did succeed after all." His expression turned tender. "I got you out. I have no idea how such a thing is possible, but here we are, you and me, alive when we should actually be entombed somewhere far below that mountain."

Fíli remained silent for a long while. "Sometimes I feel as if I am," he then said, his voice breaking a little.

Kíli stepped closer once more and pulled his brother into a tight embrace, relief flooding his heart when he felt no resistance. "I am sorry I wasn't there. I cannot imagine what it was like for you, taking Thorin's place. Can you ever forgive me?"

Fíli pulled back slightly and lifted his head to look at his brother, emotions flitting over his face too quickly for Kíli to grasp them all. When Fíli finally opened his mouth to speak, Kíli thought his heart might stop altogether – if his brother rejected him now, he did not know how he would be able to go on from here.

Before a single word made it past Fíli's lips, however, they were both startled by a loud crash in the distance, screams following in its wake. Within seconds they were at the entrance to the cave where they found their path blocked by Dwalin.

"A goblin attack," he said, his voice dripping disgust. "They came out of nowhere. Apparently these caverns aren't the only ones in the area."

"Tell me what is happening," Fíli demanded, impressing Kíli with his skill to wipe all traces if their emotionally charged conversation from his voice and switch to an entirely practical tone.

"They are swarming the lower levels. Those of our men who could have already relocated to the higher caverns. It would be best if you stayed up here for the time being until we have gained control over the situation," Dwalin replied.

Fíli did not look pleased with this information, but appeared willing to accept Dwalin's proposition. Until he turned to look at Kíli, that was.

The younger dwarf's face had turned ashen at Dwalin's words, his eyes wide with horror. "Tauriel," he managed, his throat closing up with panic. "They put her in a cave down there and tied her up. She— she won't even be able to defend herself."

Fíli looked at him long and hard then, his expression serious but otherwise unreadable. "Then we will have to go and get her," he finally said, his voice resolute. "Come on."

He pushed past Dwalin who made to argue but gave up quickly, seeing that he was confronted not with one but two of the Durin brothers. Kíli did not hesitate to follow. Despite the worry clutching at his insides there was also an unexpected warmth filling his heart. Fíli was on his side. With everything that had happened, his brother still had his back. Maybe there was still hope that they would be able to overcome the rift that Kíli's decisions had caused between them. Maybe they could become again what they once were to each other.

But first they needed to make sure that Tauriel was safe. And if that meant taking out some goblins in the process, all the better.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

It was more out of habit that Tauriel continued to test the binds that tied her hands together at the small of her back than out of an actual endeavor to escape. For where would she go if she did?

Even if they were currently the Dwarves' prisoners, Kíli would never engage in a physical confrontation with his own people. Unless their own lives were threatened and whether that was the case was yet to be determined. So all that remained for her to do was to wait and hope that Kíli's audience with the Dwarven king would have a favorable outcome.

If only that did not take so awfully long. Craning her neck, Tauriel tried to catch a glimpse of the moon in the sky so that she might judge by its position how much time had passed already since Kíli had been taken away. It was to no avail, though, the opening of the small cave too narrow to see much of anything that was happening outside. Disappointed, Tauriel rested her head against the cold, hard surface of the wall behind her with a small sigh.

She hated waiting. She was almost tempted to pick a fight with the two Dwarves guarding the entrance to the cave just to pass the time, but checked herself before she did something unwise. She had done everything in her power to ensure that Kíli did not do something reckless – it would be very foolish indeed to now put everything at risk just because she was growing restless.

And so she closed her eyes instead and tried to imagine herself back at Tuilimbar, willing the serenity of the place to fill her from within and chase away the darkness which threatened to converge upon her if she allowed her thoughts to roam freely. She took a deep breath and let it go again, counting to ten as she did so. There. That was much better.

She could almost taste the air of a fragrant spring day on her tongue, could hear the soft rustling of leaves in the wind and the occasional chatter of a bird in the nearby trees. If it hadn't been for the screams and the clatter of swords, it might have been truly peaceful indeed...

Tauriel's eyes shot open.

Yes, there was no mistaking the sounds of fighting currently drifting into her little cave from the outside. Something was happening out there, and whatever it was, it was not good. She almost rolled her eyes. This was one of those days, it seemed, were luck was anywhere but on her side.

Keeping her back to the cave's wall, Tauriel struggled to her feet just in time to witness one of the guards positioned at its entrance being jumped by a creature coming at him from the outer darkness. Goblin, Tauriel realized with a sinking feeling as she watched the guard go down while his comrade drew his sword and began fighting off what Tauriel supposed were more attackers. He quickly disappeared from her view. If only the entrance to the cave wasn't quite as small so that she might get a better idea of what was transpiring outside.

As it was, all that was left for her to do was watch helplessly as the Dwarven soldier lost the struggle against his opponent. She tried her best to shrink into the shadows, working on loosening the ties on her wrists all the while. It was to no avail – they did not yield. Under ordinary circumstances one goblin would barely have posed a challenge to her, but as it was she was unsure of her chances in a fight.

For a moment she thought the creature would simply retreat the way it had come from, but then it's ugly eyes scanned the cavern, settling upon her where she was crouched down low. Tauriel pushed to her feet in the same instant that the goblin lunged at her and she succeeded at delivering a forceful kick to its chest.

The goblin went down with a screech, but Tauriel had no opportunity to celebrate her triumph for the impact of her foot with her opponent's body caused her to lose her precarious balance and she slumped back against the wall, fighting to stay upright.

The creature whipped its head back up and glared at her from its position on the ground. Whatever she had managed to damage with her kick appeared to impede the goblin's ability to walk and it proceeded to crawl towards her, its eyes narrowed to slits. Tauriel slid down the wall at her back a little further still, suddenly unable to find proper footing. All the while she tried to break the cord around her wrists with all her strength, but all that did was rob her even further of her ability to remain upright. In the end the only thing left for her to do was to kick at the approaching goblin with flailing legs, hoping to hit it with enough force to render it unconscious.

While she did manage to strike the goblin several times, it was not enough to make it let go of her once it had gotten a hold of one of her legs. Tauriel screamed in both pain and outrage when she felt sharp teeth sink into the flesh on her right calf and she jerked her head back by reflex, hitting it on the hard stone wall behind her.

Her vision swimming, she was dimly aware of the goblin reaching for a short, curved blade. "Elf scum," it snarled, spitting on the ground beside her.

The goblin raised the blade, clearly intending to go for her throat. It never got to strike, though, for the cave was suddenly filled by a ferocious growl that caused the goblin to freeze in its movement. Before Tauriel had time to comprehend what was happening, the vile creature was pulled off her and dragged into the shadows, a blood curdling screech followed by a sickening crunch announcing its overdue demise.

Seconds later Drauchon appeared in her line of vision, his muzzle stained with dark blood. When all she did was stare at him, her chest heaving with the realization how close she had just come to a very pathetic death indeed, the wolf nudged her with his big furry head and proceeded to sniff her injured leg, whimpering softly as he did so.

"I will be fine," she managed, more than a little out of breath. "It is barely more than a scratch."

Drauchon nudged her again, pushing his head between her and the wall she still leaned against. Tauriel understood what he meant to do and leaned forward, giving the wolf better access to the ties on her wrists. His breath was hot against her skin, but she hardly flinched when she felt his teeth begin to work on the cord, knowing that he would not hurt her.

Once her arms were free, Drauchon helped to get her onto her feet, staying close by her side when she wobbled a little. Carefully she put some pressure on her injured leg and winced. This would not do. Her wound would need to be tended to, but it was too dangerous to do so here, where more goblins might attack any minute. Also, they needed to find Kíli and make sure that he was safe.

"I do not think I can walk," she said to Drauchon her brow furrowed with worry.

Drauchon gave a small yelp and cocked his head to one side questioningly. Tauriel did not have to have a preternatural connection with the animal to know what he was asking.

"I'm not sure where Kíli is exactly," she told him. "I only know that he was taken to see the king. So at least he won't be fighting on his own against those goblins."

The wolf growled menacingly at her mention of their enemies. Only now did she notice a long gash running from his forehead across his right eye. The eye itself appeared undamaged, luckily, but still it was a nasty looking injury that would also need tending once the worst of this was over.

"You already confronted them before they attacked here, didn't you?" she said. "We heard your howl. That is why were out in the woods when the Dwarves found us."

Drauchon gazed at her, his eyes wide and the warm color of molten gold. He was touched, Tauriel realized, that they had come for him when he had been in distress.

She reached out shily and ran her palm down the side of the wolf's neck, patting him lightly. Kíli was always touching the animal, but she was not used to doing so, her relationship with Drauchon hitherto mostly founded on mutual respect.

"You are one of us," she now said, feeling unexpected tenderness pool in her chest. "If you need us we will come. Always."

Drauchon continued to gaze at her for another long moment and then, without breaking their eye contact, lowered himself to the ground, shifting a little closer to her as he did so. It took Tauriel a little while to realize what it was he was doing and when she did a gentle smile spread across her face. He was offering to carry her on his back.

Under other circumstances she might have declined, but they really did need to find Kíli and then, preferably, get out of there. And so she slid her good leg across the wolf's broad back, careful not to put too much strain onto her injured limb.

Drauchon got to his feet once more and Tauriel leaned forward in her position on his back, burying her hands in his thick, warm fur in order to steady herself.

"I would not be much use in hand to hand combat right now," she said, "but I can still shoot. If you manage to get us to a place higher up we can try to locate Kíli and I can take out as many of those goblins as possible."

By way of assent to this plan of hers, Drauchon headed swiftly towards the exit of the cave, melting into the shadows once they were outside. Tauriel focused most of her attention on maintaining her balance on Drauchon's back and only risked a few fleeting glances to assess the situation in the Dwarves' camp. There was fighting going on all around, the Dwarves far superior in skill but heavily outnumbered. No sign of Kíli.

Tauriel suppressed the impulse to abandon her plan and go looking for him instead. She would be of most use to him if she helped diminish the threat the goblins posed and the best way she could do that was by following through with her initial strategy. Even if her worry for him was causing her heart to bleed.

Together, she and Drauchon found a narrow path at a short distance to the waterfall the Dwarves were camped out. It led steeply uphill, disappearing out of sight somewhere above their heads. The wolf did not hesitate to begin climbing and up they went, Tauriel clinging to the animal's body underneath her as the ground swiftly fell away.

It did not take long for them to reach a small plateau that was ideal for the purpose which Tauriel had in mind. Not wanting to waste valuable time, she positioned herself at the edge and, for the first time since leaving the cave, took a moment to really survey the mayhem below. The battle was still in full swing what with a seemingly endless number of goblins that kept pouring into the area surrounding the waterfall. Tauriel could not see where exactly they were coming from, but she supposed that there had to be some underground dwelling of them within the mountains. Maybe the caves behind the waterfall were only the surface of a much grander place hidden from the outside world.

Either way, she now had a better idea of what the red marking on the map she carried stood for – an excessively large goblin population. Thankfully, the Dwarves appeared to be holding their ground, although Tauriel could see from up above that there had been casualties on their side as well.

Without so much as batting an eyelash, she shot a few arrows in quick succession, aiming for goblins that were particularly heavily armed. Each of her arrows hit its mark, leaving the bystanders of her targets to look around in confusion. She did not even bother to conceal herself – sooner or later the goblins would identify her as the source of the arrows, but she did not worry too much about what would happen when they did. Their elevated position put her and Drauchon at an advantage and the wolf had already taken up stance at the entrance to the small plateau, ready to take out any aggressors that should choose to head their way.

Tauriel continued to shoot, the rhythm of her actions – line up the arrow, draw back the string of her bow, aim, release – soothing her tattered nerves. This she knew how to do. Satisfied with her contribution to the fight raging below, she took another moment to sit back on her heels and survey the situation.

That was when she saw them.

Two figures, emerging from behind the waterfall. They were being pursued by a whole bunch of goblins, but instead of fleeing they whirled around to face them once they were out in the open, weapons raised defensively. And then they fought. Side by side, each movement completely in tune with the actions of the other, guarding each other's back while simultaneously finishing off their opponents with some rather unconventional but highly effective fighting moves.

Tauriel had immediately recognized the taller of the two figures of course, his Elven cloak and his lean form causing Kíli to stand out from among the other Dwarves. And while her heart rejoiced at seeing him well and apparently somewhat in control of the whole situation below, it was the sight of the other, slightly shorter person that was responsible for a sudden dryness in her throat, her mind struggling to comprehend what was before her very eyes.

The last time she had seen him, his limp body had been carried by his brethren, dark blood matting his flaxen curls to his skull. The last time she had seen him, he had been _dead_. So all that was left for her was to look on in confusion as she watched the older one of the two Durin brothers stand his ground against the goblin horde, for it was without a doubt Fíli who was fighting beside Kíli.

She struggled to put the pieces together in her mind – all this time they had assumed that Dáin was now King under the Mountain, but of course they had never had any definitive proof of that, seeing that any contact with the Dwarves of Erebor would have put Kíli at a risk of being discovered. That, paired with the fact that Thranduil had practically sealed his kingdom off from the world in general and Erebor in particular after the horrors of the battle, did not make it seem all that unlikely that Fíli could have been king during all this time without them knowing so.

Tauriel's mind went back to the day after the battle, her memories of her conversation with Bard's youngest daughter suddenly quite sharp.

 _"Do you think he will be a good king, though?" little Tilda had asked her._

 _"Who?" Tauriel remembered herself asking, the matter of Kíli's lineage not having occurred to her until then._

 _"The young dwarf, of course," Tilda had explained. "I can never seem to get their names straight – they all sound the same! Anyway, Da said that that he will probably be made king now that the old one – his uncle – is dead."_

Now, with the sight of a very alive Fíli in royal attire before her, the scales fell from her eyes. Tilda had not been speaking of Kíli at all – it had been Fíli whom the little girl had pitied for losing his brother and uncle, Fíli whom people had expected to claim the throne after Thorin Oakenshield's death.

Oh Kíli. She nearly wept when she thought of his despair after the events on Ravenhill, of his seemingly endless battle with both his grief and his guilt. Had all that really been for nothing, just the result of a tragic misunderstanding?

But no – whatever had happened that had led to Fíli's unexpected survival had certainly been more than a simple misunderstanding. She was sure that she would find out the details soon enough, but already a suspicion was beginning to form in her mind. What if Thranduil's spell had not merely pulled Kíli back from the brink of death? What if it had enabled him to bring his brother with him? Kíli himself had told her that he had seen his brother in Galadriel's mirror, that he and Fíli had tried to escape that place that had been neither life nor death together. What if they had been successful?

If that was the case, Kíli was the sole reason that Fíli had survived. And maybe, _maybe,_ that fact would suffice to lessen the guilt Kíli had to be experiencing now. She hoped with all her heart that it would, for she did not know if Kíli could take having all those old wounds ripped open once again.

She was torn out of her stupor when a short, gnarly goblin snuck up behind Fíli and jumped onto his back, a knife raised with the clear intention of stabbing the Dwarf. In the blink of an eye Tauriel had another arrow lined up and let it fly with deadly precision. The arm which held the knife was pierced by her missile and a second one hit the goblin right in the back of its much too short neck.

Fíli looked around in astonishment when the goblin simply fell off his back, taking its last breath even before its body could hit the ground. Tauriel was dimly aware of the mixture of emotions on Fíli's face when he spottet her up on the plateau – surprise, gratefulness and something darker – but she did not dwell on it, for her gaze had already traveled to Kíli. He grinned when their eyes locked and she could see pride and happiness in his gaze, but also a fair amount of anguish and uncertainty. And exhaustion, both in body and in spirit.

For a moment Tauriel wished for nothing more than to take him into her arms and let him rest, let sleep obliviate all emotional turmoil for at least a little while. But of course that was no option, for they still had a fight to win.

Thankfully it did not take much longer for them to gain the upper hand in their struggle against the goblins. The arrival of dawn did the rest and sent the creatures that were still standing scurrying back into their dark, dank holes, their numbers reduced so severely that no one needed to fear a retaliation for the time being. Not even goblins were _that_ stupid.

Tauriel winced slightly as she left her position at the edge of the plateau, the injury on her leg half forgotten in the throes of the battle. Drauchon was at her side immediately. She knew he was impatient to get down to the ground and greet Kíli and so she wasted no time and climbed onto his back once more, letting him carry her down the steep, winding path.

Kíli was waiting for them at the bottom, his face full of concern as he watched her lower herself to the ground. In a futile attempt to dispel his worries, she put a little too much pressure on her leg and promptly stumbled, her muscles not working the way they ought to. Kíli was there to catch her and she sighed as his arms went around her, allowing herself a brief moment of physical comfort and reassurance.

They were forced to end their embrace when they heard the sound of blades being drawn from their sheaths followed by a threatening growl.

Tauriel turned around to see Drauchon baring his fangs at the Dwarves who had positioned themselves in front of Fíli in a protective manner and were pointing their swords at him.

"By Durin's beard, what kind of monstrosity is this?" one of the soldiers exclaimed, his voice full of terror.

Before the situation could escalate, Kíli intervened by coming to stand in front of Drauchon, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "He is a friend and will not harm you – not unless you give him a reason to do so."

The Dwarves seemed confused. Those whom Tauriel recognized as members of Thorin Oakenshield's company immediately lowered their weapons while others hesitated a little longer.

"Your majesty's brother certainly does keep interesting company," the one called Glorin remarked, the tip of his blade trembling a little as he continued to face the angry Mirkwood wolf.

"That he does indeed," Fíli muttered in exasperation. Then, more firmly, he added, "Put down your weapons. If Kíli says that the beast is harmless, we'll have to take his word for it."

Kíli visibly relaxed when, finally, the last of the Dwarves put their blades away and stepped back, most of them turning away to busy themselves with other tasks, such as tending to their wounded. They kept throwing glances over their shoulders, though, the presence of the wolf clearly unsettling them.

Fíli, meanwhile, stayed and watched his brother intently as he turned to face Drauchon and briefly grasped the animal's enormous head between his hands. Kíli lowered his own forehead until it was pressed against that of the wolf. Then he pulled back, studying the animal.

"You are hurt," Kíli remarked, wincing slightly as he examined the large gash on Drauchon's face. "We will need to tend to that later. But first I'll have a look at Tauriel's wound, alright?"

Drauchon bobbed his head in reply, his joy over being reunited with Kíli obviously stronger than any discomfort he might have been experiencing from his injury.

"It is not that bad," Tauriel insisted when Kíli turned towards her. "There are probably many who need attention much more urgently than I do."

He gave a small but decided shake of his head as he knelt down beside her. "They do not matter to me like you do," he said. "And besides, you will be of much more use to them once your own wound has been tended to, won't you?"

She could not very well disagree with that, could she? Also, her leg was indeed troubling her more than she was letting on. Biting her lip, Tauriel tried to suppress a pained gasp when Kíli leaned down to remove her boot and carefully rolled up her leggings, exposing the mauled flesh underneath.

The wound was not too big, but quite nasty nevertheless, its edges jagged and swollen. Also, it was beginning to show first signs of infection.

Kíli set to work immediately, retrieving his small leather pouch from somewhere inside his cloak. Despite the pain, Tauriel had to fight a smile as she observed him, mumbled words accompanying each of his steps as he saw to her wound. She was aware of Fíli stepping closer, his brow furrowed in confusion as he watched Kíli work.

"When did you learn to do that?" Fíli asked as Kíli applied a paste made from Elderberries he had crushed in the hollow of his hand.

Kíli hesitated, his touch on Tauriel's leg as gentle as possible in order not to cause her any more pain than she was already experiencing. "I picked up a few bits here and there," he eventually said in reply to Fíli's question. He grinned up at Tauriel. "I learned from the best."

Her answering smile was a little faint and not merely because of the sharp pain in her leg. She could sense the tension between the two brothers, which was probably also the reason why Kíli was so uncharacteristically vague in his answer. And while she had not been there for their reunion, she supposed that at least some of that tension was related to her and her part in Kíli's disappearance.

Steadying herself she glanced up at Fíli. He was still looking at his younger brother, fascinated by the new skills Kíli was displaying.

"I am glad to find you well," she addressed the blonde Dwarf, her voice tentative. "Surprised, but glad."

Fíli's gaze shifted to her and their eyes met. Tauriel tried her best to allow him to see what was in her heart. _I did not know_ , she thought desperately. _Please, please, please believe me that I did not know. I would never have kept the truth from him. Never._

A moment went by where Fíli just stared at her, his face guarded and his true feelings impossible to identify. But then he blinked and Tauriel almost sighed with relief when she saw his eyes soften, even if only by a fraction. He might not fully trust her now, but at least there seemed to be a chance of him doing so at some point in the future.

"Thank you," he suddenly surprised her by saying. "For taking out that goblin. He did get a little too close for comfort."

Tauriel nodded, her hesitant smile growing a little brighter still. "My pleasure."

Fíli's answering smile was rather self-conscious and he quickly went back to watching bis brother. Kíli had finished treating her wound and was now wrapping her leg with a strip of clean cloth, tying it the way she had shown him so that the bandage would not slip. It was impossible to gauge his reaction to the conversation that had just taken place between the two people closest to him for he kept his head down while he worked. Tauriel thought though that some of the tension in his shoulders had lessened, as if a burden resting on his back was being gradually lifted.

"How does that feel?" he asked her as he got up and took her hands to help her stand on both legs once more.

Tauriel carefully put pressure on her injured leg and smiled when she found that the sharp pain had lessened to a dull ache.

"Much better," she said to Kíli. She straightened up but did not let go of Kíli's hands yet. She was not sure how much he had revealed to Fíli about their relationship, but right now the sensation of his skin against hers simply felt too good to dwell on how this might look to a bystander.

Kíli's gaze grew tender and he gave the slightest of tugs on her hands, clearly intent on closing that last bit of distance between them. Tauriel's eyes flickered to Fíli before she could stop herself and she felt her face redden.

For everything they had been through together, she still had to get used to being openly affectionate with each other in front of others. It had been easier when they had still been in Lothlórien, that otherworldly forest making everything you did seem like part of a dream, where nothing could go wrong and all you had to do was follow your heart.

She never got to find out of Kíli really would have kissed her right then and there or what his brother's reaction would have been for they were interrupted by the arrival of the Dwarf Dori. He jogged towards them from the direction of the waterfall, panting slightly upon reaching them.

"It's Thad," he said to Fíli once he had caught his breath. "He's hurt so badly that he probably won't last much longer. You should come."

Fíli closed his eyes as he processed this bit of information, his face contorted with pain. "I will be right there," he returned, sounding more than a little resigned. Turning to Tauriel and Kíli he added, "I have to go and pay my respects. Thad has been the most loyal of fighters and a good friend."

He made to follow Dori back to the waterfall, but Kíli's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Maybe we can help."

Tauriel glanced at Kíli and found a fierce determination in his expression. She understood. Kíli still felt that he had failed his brother, abandoned him. Now he would be willing to do anything to win back his brother's trust and prevent him from getting hurt again.

When Kíli's eyes flickered to her she nodded. If there was a way to save that injured dwarf, they would find it. And not only for Fíli's sake, but because it was the right thing to do and their duty as healers.

Fíli's brow was furrowed in thought, his gaze dwelling on the leather satchel Kíli held in his hands. He closed his eyes in what seemed to be an attempt to shake off any doubts he was having.

"Come then," he said. "It did not sound as if Thad has much time left."

Together the three of them hurried back to the waterfall, each of them hoping that they were not alteady too late.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 _A/N: So glad to see that those still reading enjoyed the major plot twist of Fíli still being alive. I hope it all adds up somewhat, even though it's wildly improbable._

 _I plan to finish this already much to long story in Chapter 40, so there is not that much more left now and I feel myself getting sentimental. A big THANK YOU to those few who, even after months of me not updating, still take a few moments to let me know you're still there, still somewhat invested in this story whenever I post a new chapter. It really does mean a lot._


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to peep through the foliage of the surrounding trees when Fíli, Kíli and Tauriel ducked behind the waterfall once more in order to access the caverns it concealed. Drauchon had elected not to follow them, disappearing amongst the trees instead. Kíli was made a bit uneasy by parting ways with him so soon after their reunion, but told himself that it was probably better this way. The Dwarves, at least, would be much more comfortable without the presence of the Mirkwood wolf who clearly enjoyed throwing murderous glances at them that made their knees quiver.

In one of the larger caverns a makeshift infirmary had been set up where those wounded in the fight with the goblins were seen to by their companions. In passing, Kíli noted a number of minor injuries he now knew remedies to that would be much more effective than what the Dwarves were doing to treat them. He would try to have a look at them later, see what he and Tauriel could do with the limited supplies currently at their disposal.

It struck him quite suddenly how good it felt to finally put all the knowledge he had accumulated over the past few months to use and to help people by lessening their pain. Now that he knew how he had come to be in the possession of his abilities, it was much easier to embrace this new side of himself, this urge to assist those in need of healing.

As they drew closer to a group huddled together at the far side of the cave, Kíli saw immediately that the patient they were grouped around was injured much more severely than all the others he had seen.

Thad was a young fellow, relatively slight for a Dwarf, with shaggy, flaxen hair and a beard that was not much more substantial than Kíli's. His skin was probably quite pale to begin with, but now, lying there with his eyes closed and his chest barely lifting with each of his breaths, he really looked as if he were dead already.

The reason for his condition was easily assessed: a wound to his shoulder that was bleeding profusely. From the look of it, Kíli would have guessed that it had been delivered with something much bigger than a sword, an axe maybe.

As Fíli approached the group watching over Thad with Kíli and Tauriel in tow, the Dwarves stepped back, making room for their king. When Fíli, however, stood aside himself to allow his brother and his wife access to the unconscious Dwarf, Kíli caught sight of more than one raised eyebrow.

One Dwarf had not reacted to Fíli's arrival at all and remained crouched on the ground, holding onto Thad's hand as if his own life depended upon it. Kíli did not need any introductions to identify him as Thad's brother – he was the spitting image of the injured Dwarf except that his hair was red where Thad's was blonde.

"Flad," Fíli addressed the young Dwarf softly, "I have brought someone who might be able to help your brother. Will you let them take a look at him?"

Flad looked at Fíli like he had not been aware of his presence at all, his eyes red-rimmed and full of pain. His gaze briefly flickered to Kíli and Tauriel. If he was surprised to see an Elf in their midst, he did not show it. Instead, he shook his head lightly.

"It is too late," he said, his voice breaking. "He's halfway gone already. There is nothing anyone could do."

Fíli exchanged a brief look with Kíli and kneeled down next to Flad, putting a hand on his shoulder. "These two believe that they can. I think you should let them try."

Warmth filled Kíli's heart at knowing that his brother placed his trust in him. At knowing that Fíli believed in him, despite everything that had happened. Determined not to disappoint Fíli – not again – he stepped forward.

"We _can_ save your brother," he said to Flad. "But he does not have much time."

Flad looked at him for another moment and Kíli half feared that he would refuse to let them try. But then a spark of hope lit up the young Dwarf's eyes and he pushed himself to his feet, stepping back to make room for the two healers.

Immediately they set to work, Tauriel kneeling down on Thad's left side while Kíli took his right. Carefully they removed a bloody bundle of rags that had been used to try and stop the bleeding. There was not that much fresh blood now, but Kíli suspected that this was because Thad did not have a lot more blood to loose rather than because the Dwarves' attempts had been successful.

He looked up at Tauriel to see what her judgment of the situation was. Her expression was grave when her gaze met his. He knew what this meant – chances were that the Dwarf might not make it, even with their combined effort.

He clenched his jaw in determination and signalled for her to proceed nevertheless, refusing to give up before they had even tried.

The ghost of a smile flickered across Tauriel's face and she nodded briefly. They were in this together, for better or worse.

"Horsetail for the bleeding, Marigold to wash the wound," she muttered, reaching for their supplies.

"Oak bark might be more effective," Kíli remarked without thinking twice as he pulled a few earthen bowls from a bag in which they could mix the pastes and tinctures they would need to treat Thad's wound. "Given the large size of the wound and the fact that the bleeding is not that strong anymore."

For a moment, Tauriel looked taken aback by his suggestion and he felt himself grow a bit flustered under her scrutiny. What was he thinking, correcting her like this when she had so much more experience? But then she smiled, proudly, and nodded.

"That's quite true," she said. "I remember Faerveren always praised it for its excellent qualities."

Kíli tried not to look too pleased with himself as he continued his work, readying everything so that they would be able to clean, treat, and bind the wound. Once they were done with the former two of those tasks, however, Tauriel hesitated, the bandages Kíli had cut from a clean tunic hanging limply from her hands.

"What's the matter?" Kíli asked, his wife's furrowed brow causing a rush of trepidation.

Instead of replying, Tauriel put down the bandages and leaned forward, reaching out to cup Thad's pale face between her palms. With her thumbs she pulled up his eyelids carefully, examining the Dwarf's eyes. They were quite watery and the whites in them had taken on a sickly, yellowish tinge.

"Just as I feared," Tauriel mumbled to herself. And then, to Kíli, "The blade responsible for this injury was poisoned. Even if the wound does not kill him, he will drift into the shadows before long."

Kíli briefly closed his eyes, memories of the agony he had been in after taking that poisoned arrow during the escape from Thranduil's dungeons flooding him. He did not remember much of it, but the darkness that had threatened to obliviate everything that he was and everything that he cared for was something that he would never forget. If it had not been for one particularly bright light to guide him from it, he would have been lost forever.

"Then we know what we must do," he now said to Tauriel, his eyes opening to meet her concerned gaze.

She nodded, once, and reached for their supplies, retrieving a small leather pouch that contained their most precious of herbs – Athelas.

Kíli turned his head and looked over his shoulder, finding his brother's eyes. Fíli, of course, already knew what was coming, for he had witnessed it once before. What worried Kíli was not the strangeness of the act itself, but the role he was about to play in it. Showing off some skills in herbal lore was one thing, but how would Fíli react when he witnessed with his own eyes just how much his brother had changed?

Well, he would find out soon enough. A life was at stake and he would do everything in his power to save it, regardless of the consequences for himself.

When he looked back at Tauriel, she had already begun crushing the leaves of the Athelas, preparing the remedy that had once helped save his own life. Once she was done Tauriel paused, gazing at Kíli with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. There was something on her mind, something she was not sure about how to approach.

"What is it?" he asked her, watching her bite her lip and duck her head a little when she realized that he had sensed her hesitation.

"I think that you should be the one to take the lead from here on out," she said, leaning forward a little so that she could keep her voice low.

Kíli was utterly perplexed. "Wh– me? Why?"

While he had steadily been gaining confidence in his abilities as a healer over the past few weeks, he had not even thought twice about Tauriel taking charge in what they were about to do. She was much more experienced than him, after all. The only time he had actually performed a proper incantation, he had not even been aware that he had been doing so.

Now Tauriel gazed at him steadily. "I believe it will work better this way. He is a Dwarf, as are you, and thus your connection to him should be stronger than mine. That always helps." Her gaze softened, understanding for his insecurities shining in her eyes. "Listen to your instincts. Everything you need is already there, inside of you. And I'll be right there with you at every step of the way."

He just stared at her for a moment, letting her words sink in. Then he nodded decidedly, realizing that she was right.

Trying to block out everything else and ignore the curious glances of the other Dwarves, Kíli reached out in the same moment that Tauriel did, their hands meeting over Thad's body. Tauriel pressed some of the damp Athelas leaves into his palm and they each began to apply a generous amount to the young Dwarf's injury.

The sharp but pleasant smell of the herb rose into his nose, and Kíli felt it clear his head and help him focus on nothing but the task at hand. With his eyes closed and his hands hovering a mere inch above Thad's chest, he hesitantly reached out with his mind, trying to locate Thad's spirit amongst the many things he was able to feel once he tapped into Faerveren's gift to him.

There. It was weak and frightened and in a fair amount of agony, but he could now sense the young Dwarf's essence quite clearly. More confident now, Kíli tried to wrap himself around that tortured spirit, tried to guard it against the forces of darkness threatening to close in on it.

 _Leave him be_ , he commanded them. _You cannot have him for he is under my protection now_.

When those forces of darkness rallied against him, he stood his ground, refusing to back down. He suddenly became aware of another presence there with him, warm and strong and familiar. Tauriel. Confident that with her at his side nothing could go wrong he found the courage to open himself up to his gift completely, unleashing the force of light inside of him.

He became aware of a voice repeating the same words over and over again and it took him a while before he realized that it was he who was speaking those words that were to guide Thad back to them and keep the darkness at bay. He opened his eyes to find himself enveloped in a bright light and his eyes latched onto Tauriel kneeling across from him, her lips moving in perfect synchronicity with his.

The light grew brighter still, eclipsing everything except for him, Tauriel and the unconscious Dwarf between them. Kíli forced himself not to pull back, to allow the force inside of him to fuel the magic that was to bring Thad back from the brink of death. Then, just when he thought that he could not stand a second longer of this, that he would shatter to pieces with the intensity of it all, it was over. The light faded into nothingness, silence settling over the scene like a heavy blanket.

A second went by and then two, three, where time stood cometely still. And then Thad gasped, air rushing into his lungs as if he had narrowly escaped drowning. His eyes, when they opened, were full of fear and pain, but they were also blessedly clear, all traces of the poisoning gone.

Kíli and Tauriel both sat back on their heels simultaneously, allowing Flad, who had cried out with relief the moment Thad's eyes had opened, better access to his brother. Their eyes, however, remained locked, the intensity of the last few minutes, of performing this powerful piece of magic together, leaving them both breathless and connected to each other in ways they could barely comprehend.

 _You did it,_ Tauriel mouthed, staying completely still in spite of the buzz that had erupted around them when the Dwarves had realized that their companion would indeed live.

 _We did,_ Kíli mouthed back, a happy, exhausted smile spreading across his face. And he knew this to be a fact – no matter how strong the light left behind by Faerveren burned in him, Tauriel was the only reason he knew how to use it, the one guiding him, helping him bear this responsibility. That there were no limits to the things they might achieve, together.

XxXxXxXxXxXx

The sun was already high in the sky when Kíli found himself outside once more, it's heat scorching the skin at the back of his neck. He was kneeling at the water's edge, rinsing some strips of cloth they had used when treating the wound of the injured Dwarf.

After Thad had regained consciousness, Kíli had suddenly felt as if all energy had been drained from him, the curious stares of the other Dwarves and the amount of noise in the cavern making him uncomfortable and dizzy.

"Go," Tauriel had said after taking one glance at his face. "I will finish up here."

Kíli had not been entirely comfortable leaving her there on her own, but seeing that the edges of his vision had begun to blur in a most unsettling manner, he had struggled to his feet and headed to the exit of the cave, the promise of fresh air fueling his unsteady steps.

He felt much better now, exhausted, yes, but not on the verge of fainting anymore. Had the circumstances been different he might have chosen to sleep it off, but as it were, that was out of the question. There was too much on his mind anyway.

As he watched the cloth soak in the clear water of the river, thin tendrils of blood rising from the stained fabric and dissolving into a bright red hue, he heard the crunch of steps on the gravel behind him. He did not have to even lift his head to check who that was, his senses still attuned to his brother even after their prolonged separation.

He remained silent as Fíli sat down beside him, drawing his knees up to rest his elbows on them.

"That was certainly... _something,_ " Fíli remarked. Kíli did not have to ask what it was that he spoke of.

He sighed. "I know. It– it's hard to explain. And probably even harder to understand."

"I can imagine." Fíli gave a low chuckle. "It strikes me that marrying an elf is the least strange thing to happen to you in the past few months."

A laugh of his own escaped Kíli's lips at that. "You might say so indeed." He fell silent, his thoughts traveling down a number of paths while his face grew serious once more. "I did not simply ride off into the sunset with her after the battle, you know," he finally said, still feeling the need to justify his actions. "In fact, I waited so long until I finally allowed what was between us to become real that it was almost too late."

Fíli dwelled upon those words for a moment. "I believe you," he said eventually. A heavy weight appeared to lift off Kíli's chest at that, only to be replaced by another immediately. "I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that you left," Fíli admitted.

The breath that left Kíli's lips at that bordered on a sob, but he swallowed it down. What he owed his brother was an explanation and not tears. Overcome by even more tiredness than before, he sank down next to his brother, drawing his own knees up until his and Fíli's legs were almost but not quite touching.

"I was in a bad place after the battle," he began, forcing himself to confront all those things he had felt back then. "And aside from all that grief, all that pain, I felt so terribly guilty. Guilty over being alive when so many, including Thorin and yourself, had died. Guilty over being the reason why Tauriel had been exiled from her home."

"She was?"

"Aye." Kíli nodded gravely. "As her punishment for following us to Laketown. For coming to save me. I thought that, if there was nothing else I could do to undo the damage already done, I might at least convince her king to lift her banishment. So I made a deal with him – if he took us both back to Mirkwood, I would find a way to help him get back those gems he and Thorin were quarelling over."

The look of incredulity on Fíli's face nearly made him burst out laughing. Fíli knew, as well as he did that there was not much anyone could have done to convince Dáin, had he really become king, to part with a treasure so valuable. "And he went with that? The Elvenking, I mean?"

Again, Kíli nodded. "He did. Although I am not entirely sure why. Back then, I did not care. I had gotten my wish and was permitted to accompany Tauriel back to her home in the woods."

"Which provided you with a perfect way of escaping the responsibility you thought would fall to you if you stayed," Fíli remarked, unable to keep a hint of reproach out of his voice.

Kíli stared at the ground between his feet, the feeling of shame resting heavily on his shoulders. "As I said, I was in a bad place at the time."

Fíli lowered one of his legs at that and shifted, so that he was now facing Kíli. "But you are in a better place now?" he asked, hope sneaking into his voice.

Kíli knew immediately what his brother was really asking him. Now that he had learned that things were not at all how he had thought, would he be willing to return? Would he do what needed to be done in order to retrieve what was still left of his former life?

He squeezed his eyes shut, the pain of being confronted with this impossible decision threatening to overwhelm him.

"I am not the same Dwarf you set out with on what we thought would be the glorious quest to reclaim our homeland," he said after a few more moments of silence. "You have just witnessed with your own eyes how much I have changed."

Beside him, Fíli scooted a little closer still, making Kíli lift his head and turn to look at him. His brother reached into the neckline of his shirt, pulling out an object attached to a leather string. "Maybe you need something to remind yourself of that Dwarf whose dream it was to see the halls of his forefathers with his own eyes."

Kíli watched as Fíli tugged sharply on the string and held it out to him, placing the object attached to it into his outstretched hand. It was his runestone. Cool and smooth it rested against his palm, the familiar sensation calling forth so many memories that Kíli feared he might drown in them.

"How– how did you get this?" he asked, overcome with feeling. He had not thought much of the stone since before the battle, assuming that it had been lost in the chaos of the war fought at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. He had not asked Tauriel about it either, not wanting to induce her to think that losing it caused him pain. For it hadn't – it _was_ just a token, after all. But that did not mean that seeing it now did not affect him.

"Once I had recovered enough to do so, I went back to Ravenhill," Fíli explained. "The others had found some parts of your armour up there when they first searched for you, but we still had no idea what had happened to you. The conviction that you really had died was beginning to spread, but I just couldn't give up and so I went back. That's when I found it."

Fíli was silent for a long time, the memories of those days after the battle having left its mark on him as well. "I kept it," he continued eventually, "hoping against hope that you would still find a way to keep the promise it stands for."

Gently, Kíli ran his thumb across the inscription on the heavy, black stone as he had done countless of times before. _Innikh dê. Return to me._

When Kíli did not say anything, Fíli pressed on. "We are on our way to the Blue Mountains. To convince the remainder of our people to come to Erebor. To honor the cause for which Thorin gave his life and help rebuild that greatest kingdom of the Dwarves. Come with us. Fulfill the promise you made to our mother."

This time Kíli was unable to hold back the tears when they came. He looked up at his brother and saw that Fíli's eyes were shining with hope.

"I—," he began, but then faltered. He had made that promise to Dís, yes, but he had also made a promise to Tauriel, first on the shores of the lake Esgaroth and then again, when he had pledged himself to her as her husband. "I am not sure that I am in a position to keep that promise. Not without hurting Tauriel. And I cannot— I _won't_ do that," he admitted to Fíli, dropping his gaze to the ground once more, hating himself for crushing his brother's hope like that.

Silence stretched between them, tears still burning in Kíli's eyes.

"Kíli. Look at me."

He lifted his head when his brother spoke, his eyes traveling to Fíli's face. He expected to find hatred and disappointment in it, but was startled when he was met with tentative understanding and the kind of stubborn determination that ran so strongly in his family.

Fíli put a hand on his shoulder and Kíli felt himself lean into his touch immediately, his whole body longing for comfort from his brother in those times of agony and heartache.

"If you cannot keep the promise you made," Fíli said, "then I suppose you will just have to make a new one. To me. Can you do that?"

Kíli nodded fiercely, decidedly, the movement causing a final, hot tear to spill from his eyes and roll down his cheek. And he leaned in closer, letting his brother map out the details of a future for them in which they, despite the rift that fate and the most cruel of misunderstandings had caused between them, might still get to salvage what was left of their bond. A future in which they might still get to be the brothers that they once were.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

As she walked through the undergrowth Tauriel brushed her long hair over one shoulder, swiftly tying it into one thick braid. After the rain that had fallen the night before the air was sweltering and although she was not usually affected very much by such external circumstances, she was beginning to experience a bit of discomfort, beads of sweat starting to gather at the back of her neck.

Maybe the river would provide her with some much needed refreshment. But first she needed to find Kíli and make sure that he was alright. Once the initial euphoria over their successful healing of the Dwarf Thad had subsided, Tauriel had witnessed the events of the past few hours catch up with Kíli, the madness of it all taking its toll on him.

Thad's wound had still needed binding and so she had sent Kíli outside on his own, hoping that he would stay out of trouble until she could join him. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen his brother leave the cave shortly after. She would have wished for Kíli to get a small break from the emotional strain he had to be under right now, but of course Fíli's need to discuss everything that had happened, everything that he had witnessed, was equally understandable. She only hoped that the two brothers managed to keep things civil between themselves, for she was not sure how well Kíli would manage an argument in his current state.

Concern for her husband quickened her step, but she stopped dead when, from within the treeline, she saw the two brothers sitting side by side on the riverbank. She could not have explained what it was exactly, but something about the intimacy of the moment made her refrain from making her presence known and so she melted into the shade provided by the trees and watched as Fíli pulled out something from underneath his shirt, holding it out for Kíli to see.

"Maybe you need something to remind yourself of that Dwarf whose dream it was to see the halls of his forefathers with his own eyes," she heard him say.

Kíli's expression matched the surprise Tauriel experienced herself when she recognized the object Fíli proceeded to place into his younger brother's palm. It was the same stone that had slipped from his fingers when she had come to see him in his cell in Thranduil's dungeon. The same stone he had pressed into her palm on the shore of Lake Esgaroth, his eyes shining with hope and adoration. The same stone she had wrapped in his limp fingers when she had thought him dead on Ravenhill, both her heart and her hope shattered.

She had realized only much, much later, when the turmoil of the battle had faded to a haunting memory, that the stone had been lost. Getting Kíli to safety had taken precedence over everything else in those critical hours and she must not have noticed when the stone fell from his grasp somewhere between Ravenhill and Dale. When she had noticed it's absence she had experienced a quick, painful stab to her heart, but she had consoled herself with the fact that she did not need it any longer. The promise it had stood for had been fulfilled – Kíli had returned to her.

Now, however, she was reminded in the most painful manner that for Kíli the stone represented much more than just his promise to her. It linked him to his mother, his family, and served as a stark reminder of the person he had once been, before he had known her, before everything had fallen into chaos.

"How– how did you get this?" Kíli asked his brother, his voice choked with feeling.

Tauriel listened as Fíli explained how he had found the stone when searching for any traces of his lost brother. All the while, however, she kept her gaze fixed on Kíli's face, her own heart hurting as she watched the feelings it reflected. Shame. Guilt. Grief. Longing.

"I kept it," Fíli added once he was finished with his account, "hoping against hope that you would still find a way to keep the promise it stands for."

Tauriel's vision swam with unshed tears. Fíli was asking Kíli to come home, to return to his mother, to return to _him_ , and while a powerful part of her had always wished for Kíli to find a way in which he might be reconciled with his kin, she was suddenly terrified of what this would mean for them, for the life they had built.

She did not have to wait long for Fíli to voice the invitation which had been implicit in his previous statement.

"We are on our way to the Blue Mountains. To convince the remainder of our people to come to Erebor. To honor the cause for which Thorin gave his life and help rebuild that greatest kingdom of the Dwarves. Come with us. Fulfill the promise you made to our mother," Fíli pleaded.

He did not say it, but it was obvious to Tauriel that after the proposed journey to Ered Luin, Fíli wished for his brother to accompany him back to Erebor, to remain at his side while he ruled as King under the Mountain. She could not begrudge Fíli this wish, could not loathe him for wanting the one person close to him whom she herself never wanted to spend a single day without. But she could curse fate for playing such cruel tricks on all of them, for breaking their hearts over, and over, and over again.

Her own tears spilled down her cheeks as she watched Kíli shiver with the attempt to hold back a sob, his eyes glistening as he turned to look at his brother.

"I am not sure that I am in a position to keep that promise," Kíli finally said, sounding utterly dejected. "Not without hurting Tauriel. And I cannot— I _won't_ do that."

Quickly Tauriel clapped a hand over her mouth, silencing her pained gasp at Kíli's words. She had heard enough. Without a sound she turned around and fled back into the forest, her heart and mind in agony not only over the pain Kíli was in, but also over the role that she played in his predicament.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

He found her on a small plateau overlooking the lands to the East, Mirkwood a dark, oblong shape in the fading daylight. Well, _found_ would not be entirely correct, for in the end it had been Drauchon who had led him to her after he had searched for her in vain, his unease growing with every minute that passed where he could not locate her. Luckily the Mirkwood wolf had appeared at his side out of nowhere, his keen sense of smell bringing his search to a swift end.

Tauriel was perched on a large slab of stone, her head resting on her knees as she hugged her legs to her body.

"Everythig is settled, then?" she asked as soon as he was within earshot, her tone curiously devoid of emotion.

"If by settled you mean whether I spoke to my brother again, then yes, I suppose so," he replied a little cautiously as he continued to approach her. There was something very much off about her whole demeanor. She did not seem angry, but somewhat... forlorn. Drauchon appeared to sense it too, for he trotted over to her and curled up on the ground next to the boulder, looking up at her with wide, questioning eyes.

"Are you alright?" Kíli asked as he, too, came to stand beside the rock Tauriel was still perched on, unmoving. He longed to reach out to her, but something about her current mood made him refrain from doing so.

Suddenly she slid of the rock and came to stand in front of him. Without offering an explanation, she held out her hand to him and he automatically reached out as well, accepting whatever it was she was giving him. His stomach dropped when he realized that it was her ring he now held in his palm.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked, horrified by this turn of events.

Tauriel's gaze fell to the ground. "I am releasing you from your promise," she said, her voice hollow. "So that you can be with your brother."

Kíli struggled to make sense of what she was saying, but his mind was completely blank, panic clutching at his chest. "I— You— _What_?"

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, then he tried again. "What makes you think that this is something that I would want?"

Still, she would not look at him. "Did you not once tell me that there was no place for me at Erebor?"

He did remember saying those words to her, even if the memory felt like something from another life entirely. "Yes," he began, "but I—"

She did not let him finish. "I do not want to make your return to your family and, inevitably, to Erebor any more difficult than it will already be. And this does not mean that we cannot still see each other—" here, her carefully controlled voice almost broke, "—from time to time. Or write to each other."

Had her lost expression not nearly caused his heart to shatter into a million pieces, Kíli might have laughed at the ridiculousness of this proposition. As it was, his face matched the earnestness of his voice when he spoke. "Tauriel, I am not returning to Erebor."

If he had hoped that this revelation would surprise her enough to make her end this nonsense, he had been mistaken.

"Well, maybe not immediately," she said, as if she had barely heard what it was he was trying to convey to her, "but before too long it will be inevitable. Fíli is king now – you couldn't possibly be a part of his life and _not_ be at Erebor."

"Not like I once was, no" he said, his voice very quiet. "But then again, I am not the same person I used to be."

For the first time during this strange conversation, Tauriel looked right at him. "But you still love your brother. That has not changed – you have told me so yourself and I have watched you miss him every single day."

"I cannot deny the truth of that," Kíli returned. Carefully he took a step closer and took her hand in his, hoping that she would not pull away. "But neither can I deny the fact that I love you and that without you I would be completely shattered. We have a life together, Tauriel, and I am not going to throw that away."

She allowed him to hold onto her hand even though her gaze dropped to the ground once more. "A life you would not have chosen had you known Fíli to be alive."

"No, I wouldn't have." The bluntness of his statement caused her to look up at him in surprise, which was exactly what he had hoped for. He now had her complete attention. Raising his free hand to her cheek, he cupped it in his palm, gently holding her in place so that her gaze would not stray from his again. "So let me make this choice now. Back then I was desperate and confused, hurt and scared. And while the last hours have been anything but easy, I am none of those things now. And I choose you. I choose _us_."

Tauriel just stared at him, a single tear leaving its track on her smooth cheek. "But what about your family? Your brother?"

Feeling her resolution waver, Kíli stepped closer still, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her against him. "I'll still see them. From time to time." He grinned wistfully, fully aware that he was echoing her words when she had proposed that he should leave her in favor of being reunited with his kin. "Of course there will be visits to Erebor. But visits are all they will be – my life is with you and wherever you go, I'll go as well."

Tauriel took a shuddering breath as she tried, in vain, to reign in her feelings. "To the tops of the highest mountains? To the shores of the most distant seas? Through the deepest of valleys and down the wildest of rivers?" she whispered, her lips so close to his now that Kíli could almost taste her.

He lifted his head a little further still, closing that last inch between them. The kiss they shared was chaste, but still it filled his heart to the brink with love and desire. "Aye," he said, "and so much more if you let me." And then, after another kiss to seal their agreement, "Now will you please put that ring back on?"

Her responding laugh was tearful. "I will," she said, holding out her hand so that he was able to slip the delicate golden band back onto her finger.

"And don't you ever take that off again," he cautioned her, his breath rushing out of his lungs with his relief. He gathered her into his arms then, and held her close, waiting for the frantic beating of his heart to subside. "You know, you should really have stayed to hear the end of my conversation with Fíli. Then you would have known that there was no need for any of this," he said when he finally felt a lot calmer.

He felt her squirm in his grasp, but did not let go. "It's alright," he said. "I do not mind at all that you listened. I merely wish that what you heard had not caused you such pain."

She turned her face to the side, burying it in his hair. "You must think me such a fool," she said, her voice mortified.

He chuckled. "Not at all. And even if I did – a little foolishness on your part couldn't exactly hurt to balance the many foolish things I have done in the past and will probably continue to do in the future."

He could feel her smile against his temple. "Is that a promise?"

"I think I've made enough of those for the time being," he returned. "Let's just call it a prognosis."

"Alright then," she said, pulling back far enough to be able to kiss him again.

Drauchon chose this moment to heft himself off the ground with an impatient grunt. He trotted off back the way Kíli and he had come from, leaving his two companions to stare after him in slight amusement. He often liked to tease them about their ways, pretending to be mildly annoyed by their displays of affection. The happy wagging of his tail, however, did not escape their notice, as it betrayed that he was in truth quite satisfied with the way things had turned out in the end.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"So you'll be there? As we agreed?"

"I made a promise, didn't I? And this one I absolutely intend to keep."

Tauriel looked on as the two Durin brothers said their farewells to each other, confirming, one last time, the details of what was to be the first of many meetings between the two of them.

With Mirkwood and Erebor not at such a great distance to each other, Fíli and Kíli planned to see each other regularly during those times when Kíli and Tauriel were at Tuilimbar. And, seeing that the Swallow's Nest had become home to both of them, this would in all likelihood be quite frequently. There were other things that the brothers had talked about, shared travels as well as ways in which Kíli might support the young King under the Mountain from afar, but, as Kíli had conceded when he had laid out the details of these plans for her, only time could tell how realistic those schemes were.

What mattered was that he and Fíli would see each other often enough to be a part of each other's lives. It was not perfect, but it was enough to allow the brothers to part without bitterness and with hope in their hearts.

"Do you believe that Mum will be easily persuaded to return to Erebor with you?" Kíli now asked Fíli, knowing that this was one of the main reasons why the king himself undertook this long journey instead of simply sending a delegation to the Blue Mountains.

Fíli responded with a sly grin. "I wasn't so sure before," he said. "You know how stubborn she can be. But now I'm quite confident that she will come – if only to be able to kick your sorry behind for letting us all believe that you were dead."

Kíli looked vaguely horrified at that prospect and Tauriel placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could not take this burden of having to face the consequences of his decisions from him, but she could be at his side, every step of the way.

The pallor of his younger brother's face caused Fíli to take pity on him and he sighed before adding, "You also know, though, that she loves you unconditionally. She will forgive you."

 _As I did_.

Fíli did not say the words, but they were written all over his face. Tauriel gazed at the light-haired Dwarf, overcome by a sudden warmth in her heart. From Kíli's narrations she had known Fíli's character to be steadfast and honorable, but that he was willing to not merely forgive his brother for his impulsive actions but to also accept the changes in Kíli's life, in Kíli's very person, amazed and humbled her. The Dwarves of Erebor could be proud to call this one their king and if there was any such thing as justice in this world, their kingdom should be allowed to prosper under a ruler so kind and loyal.

Now Kíli pressed his lips together, as overcome by feeling as she was. He reached out to grasp his brother's shoulder. "Thank you," he simply said. Fíli would know what he meant. "Can I ask you for one more favor, though?"

Tauriel quirked an eyebrow, curious what Kíli wanted to ask of his brother. She never got to find out, though, for suddenly she became aware of a presence behind her and turned around to find herself opposite the two young Dwarves, Thad and Flad.

Flad was supporting his brother who was clearly still in quite the amount of pain – which came as no surprise, given the severity of his injury. Despite the sickly color of his skin, Thad blushed as Tauriel gazed down at him.

"You should not be on your feet," Tauriel said immediately, the healer in her bristling at such reckless behavior of her patient.

"That's exactly what I've been trying to get into that thick skull of his," Flad grumbled at that. "But he won't listen. Never does."

Thad glared at him and Tauriel could not suppress a small smile, the interaction between the two brothers reminding her of the other two siblings nearby.

"I– I wanted to see you in person," Thad admitted, turning his attention back to her, "and convince myself that the others were not just having me on when they said that an elf had come and saved my life."

Tauriel felt her own cheeks heat up a little at so much attention to her person. "I did come to your aid," she said, "but strictly speaking it was your king's brother who saved your life."

The young Dwarf's gaze flickered over to Kíli and Tauriel watched a fair share of admiration wash over his features. Maybe, she thought, acceptance by his people would not be as hard to come by as Kíli believed. This young Dwarf, at least, did not appear to harbor any resentment towards the young prince who had deserted his people, nor did he seem offended by the idea of a kinsman possessing the Elven gift of healing.

"So I have heard," Thad said in reply to her statement. "And I will make sure to express my thanks to him." Shily, he lifted his gaze to her. "Will— will you be accompanying us on our journey from here on out?"

Taken aback by this question, Tauriel gaped at the injured Dwarf who whose blush deepened even further. That a Dwarf, other than Kíli of course, should wish for her company surprised her beyond words. "No, I am afraid not," she replied, unexpected regret at having to disappoint this young kinsman of her husband rising in her. "Kíli and I will return to Mirkwood instead."

Thad's shoulders sagged a little at that, but then he straightened up, his jaw set in the stubborn manner Tauriel had come to associate with his race. "Come to Erebor then, when we have returned from Ered Luin. I am not sure if it is possible at all to repay someone for saving one's life, but if there is a way, I'll think of it 'til then."

His eyes were kind and serious, and Tauriel found herself smiling despite the bafflement she still experienced. "I will consider it," she said, not wanting to make a promise she might not be able to keep.

Thad nodded earnestly at that. "Thank you," he said.

Flad appeared to take this as his cue that their conversation had ended. "Come on then," he muttered to his brother, "let's get you ready so that we can finally get on with our journey."

His tone was gruff, but when Tauriel caught his gaze he sent her a hesitant smile, tightening his hold on his brother as he helped him back to where the other Dwarves were packing up their belongings. Tauriel was left to stare after the two brothers, still not entirely sure what had just transpired.

"Should I be worried?"

She was startled by Kíli coming up next to her, looking after Thad and Flad, his eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, the way he was looking at you I thought he might go down on one knee any minute," Kíli returned, his tone teasing.

She turned to face him and smiled. "Too bad then that my heart already belongs to another."

"Too bad?" Kíli echoed, turning towards her as well.

"You know what I mean," she said, raising her hand to put it against his chest in a featherlight touch.

He covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Under the curious stares of the Dwarves surrounding them they refrained from exchanging any further caresses, but just the warmth of Kíli's skin against hers was enough to make Tauriel's heart soar with love for her husband.

The Dwarves were almost ready for departure now and Fíli headed over to Kíli and Tauriel once more.

"Look after him," he said to Tauriel, "make sure that he does not get himself into too much trouble."

"I will," she promised, smiling brightly at the young Dwarven king.

He returned her smile a bit hesitantly, but it was enough for her to hope that one day, in the future, they would become friends, united by their love for his brother.

Turning to Kíli, Fíli pulled him into a tight embrace. "I shall see you soon," he said, his voice muffled from where he rested his head against Kíli's shoulder.

"Soon, brother," Kíli repeated, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

The brothers pulled apart and, after gazing at each other for another long moment, Fíli joined his men that were waiting for him already.

With their king to lead them, the Dwarven party began their ascend into the mountains, their path leading them up to the pass which would take them into Eriador.

Kíli and Tauriel stared after them for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts. A rustling in the bushes to their left announced the return of Drauchon. The wolf trotted over to them, sitting down on the ground beside Kíli. He wedged his head underneath Kíli's arm in the same moment in which Tauriel placed a comforting hand on his right shoulder.

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"No," Kíli replied immediately, but then reached up to clasp her fingers in his while running his free hand through Drauchon's fur. "But I will be."

And for once I her life she just knew this to be true.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 _A/N: I hope you can forgive me for breaking up the brothers so soon after their reunion. I felt that it took Kíli and Tauriel so long to work out what they want in life and from each other that simply giving up on their plans would not be the right choice here. Also, some other story lines need to be tied up before the end and I cannot do that with them traveling to the Blue Mountains. Fíli will be back though before it is all over, don't worry._


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Summer had long since reached and passed its peak when their unlikely company of three entered Mirkwood, the cool shade of the ancient trees a welcome relief from the hot weather that had accompanied them for the entirety of their journey east.

Aside from the sweltering heat which made traveling at midday almost impossible, the days after parting ways with the Dwarves of Erebor had been peaceful. The map Tauriel had taken from the goblin camp had stayed with Fíli and his men for the time being – they would look into some of the markings on their return journey and, should the opportunity arise, make others aware of a possible threat.

The fact that Kíli and Tauriel were, for now, not planning to take any action regarding what Kíli had begun referring to as the 'goblin problem' did however not mean that they had allowed themselves to let their guard down during their journey. Too recent were their encounters with not one but two goblin armies to become negilgent in that respect.

Where the open lands east of the Misty Mountains had felt like a continuous threat to their safety, Mirkwood now seemed like a safe haven by contrast, embracing them as a mother would her children after a long, adventurous day away from home. Which was a bit odd, really, given the fact that not so long ago the forest had been anything but safe and that all three of them had nearly been killed on more than one occasion while traveling inside it.

Tauriel had to admit, though, that the tentative changes she had begun to observe upon her return from the battle at the Lonely Mountain were now manifesting themselves in more obvious ways than back then, the darkness which had resided over the lands she had grown up in not much more than a slight shadow nowadays – like a chilly draft that would sometimes catch you unawares but that did not in itself hold much danger. Whatever had happened during the months of her and Kíli's absence had continued to drive away the evil things that used to lurk in this part of the forest.

What that meant for Mirkwood at large, Tauriel could not say. She suspected that down south, near the old fortress, one might still run into horrid creatures such as the spiders that had haunted her homeland for so long, but at least their force appeared weakened, their influence waning.

They did not come upon any of her fellow Mirkwood Elves during their hike through the forest, but still Tauriel was able to pinpoint the exact moment they stepped across the invisible boundary separating Thranduil's realm from the rest of the forest. Not much further until they would reach Tuilimbar, she realized, and felt her heartbeat pick up a notch in happy anticipation.

With her thoughts focused on the path ahead, she did not notice right away that Kíli had ceased walking and had turned around, facing back the way they had come from. She imitated his actions and saw that Drauchon had stopped a few feet behind them and was now sitting on his haunches amongst the ancient trees.

Before she had time to ask what he was doing, Kíli spoke.

"You are not coming with us."

His tone was not one of surprise and Tauriel realized that deep down she, too, had known that it would come to this. Even if it had not been for the fact that the Mirkwood wolves were not exactly welcome on Thranduil's lands, life at their quiet home in the woods would not have been suited to the needs of their canine companion.

Wistfully, she followed Kíli as he retraced his steps until he came to stand before Drauchon, who had cocked his head to one side and was studying them both intently. The wolf had not been part of their plan when they had initially agreed to return to Mirkwood back in Ingwen's home, but somehow, along their troublesome journey, he had become family. And as much as Tauriel had often found herself craving the intimacy that came with having Kíli all to herself, she realized with a heavy heart that Drauchon's presence would be sorely missed.

"You are always welcome at the Swallow's Nest," she offered, her voice hitching on the unexpected lump in her throat.

In reply, Drauchon rose from the ground and came to stand in front of her, lowering his head to push it against the back of her hand. Smiling, Tauriel stroked his thick, soft fur, regretting that it had taken her a while to become this affectionate with the wolf.

Drauchon sauntered over to Kíli next, raising his head so that their eyes were almost level as he stood in front of him. Kíli leaned forward, resting his forehead against Drauchon's brow in a gesture so full of brotherly love that Tauriel felt her chest constrict and she dropped her gaze, frowning at the forest ground.

"We will come see you as well," Kíli mumbled. "And if there is ever anything you need from us... Well, I'll _know_. And we'll come for you. Always."

Drauchon pulled back and stared at Kíli for a long moment, a silent communication passing between the two. Then, without further ado, the wolf turned around and leapt away, disappearing amongst the trees.

Tauriel came to stand beside Kíli as they both stared after the wolf, putting her hand against the back of his shoulder. It was meant to be a comforting gesture and when Kíli loosely draped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his side, she realized that she, too, was in need of consolation after parting with their friend.

"What do you think he will do?" she asked.

Kíli shrugged, still looking at the spot where Drauchon had disappeared into the undergrowth. "I'm not sure. I hope he will find others of his kind. Join a new pack."

Tauriel frowned. "Do you think they will accept him?"

She did not know much about the ways of the wolves, but from what she had seen, their packs were organized according to a strict hierarchy and she wondered where the headstrong, lone wolf would fit in.

"It won't be easy," Kíli admitted. "But I do hope he'll try." Finally tearing his gaze away from the forest he turned towards her and tilted his head back to look at her. "Sometimes a new home can be found in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people," he added and Tauriel knew they were not merely talking about Drauchon anymore.

A gentle smile tugged at her lips and she moved to close the space between them, capturing his lips in a chaste, but firm kiss. "Speaking of home," she whispered against his mouth when she pulled away once more, "should we continue our journey?"

"Absolutely," Kíli returned, stealing another quick peck before straightening up and adjusting his backpack and weapons. "Lead the way, millady."

And she did.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

They reached Tuilimbar when the sun was already very low in the sky, its last rays peeking over the treetops to bathe the house nestled among the trees in a golden glow. Tauriel and Kíli stopped dead when they stepped into the small clearing, both of them entirely transfixed by this almost too beautiful view.

Without uttering a single word, Kíli took Tauriel's hand in his and gave a gentle tug and together they crossed the short distance that separated them from their destination. For a moment Tauriel's mind went back to the day they had returned to Tuilimbar after their first encounter with the spiders. She still recalled how profoundly she had been touched by Kíli reaching for her hand then and not letting go, for once allowing them both the comfort of the other's touch without pulling back immediately.

She marveled at how much had changed since that day, how attuned they had become to each other, their bodies gravitating to one another without questions or inhibitions. What amazed her even more, however, was the fact that even such an innocent gesture as holding hands with her husband could still set her heart racing, her skin tingling from his touch.

Suddenly she was in a bit of a hurry to finally reach their destination, the familiarity of the house pulling her towards it. Kíli appeared to experience a similar urgency, for his steps were quick as he led her up the ancient stone steps to the entrance of the Swallow's Nest.

They found the door unlocked, as it always was and had been for as long as Tauriel could remember. There were many threats lurking in the shadows of Mirkwood, but none of them would be held back by a locked door, and so neither the house's current nor its former inhabitants had ever seen a necessity for that. Kíli paused on the threshold, letting Tauriel go through first, and once they were both inside, they closed the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

Still, they did not speak, and when Kíli leaned his back against the door behind him and took a slow, deep breath, Tauriel found herself mirroring his actions. The air in the house was musty from being empty for so many months, but beyond that, Tauriel could still detect a hint of the smells that made the Swallow's Nest what it was. Herbs. Spices. Wood.

Home, she thought.

"Home," Kíli whispered beside her in the very same moment.

Smiling, they turned towards one another, each still leaning with one shoulder against the heavy, wooden front door.

"And what now?" Tauriel asked, the fact that there were no obligations nagging her at the back of her mind – no campsite to scout and secure, no fire to build – providing her with a sense of freedom she had not even known she had missed while they had been on the road.

Kíli grinned and just the slight darkening of his gaze as he let his eyes roam over her was enough to cause warmth to pool somewhere behind her navel, her whole body tingling in anticipation.

"I could think of a thing or two," Kíli muttered, his hand sneaking up to twirl a strand of her long hair around his finger.

"Is that so?" Tauriel asked, her voice a little less steady than she had been aiming for.

Kíli merely nodded, his grin turning into a teasing smirk before his fingers abandoned her lock of hair to cup the back of her neck instead, pulling her towards him to capture her lips with his. The touch of his mouth against hers was light, but charged with a breathless tension. A small gasp escaped Tauriel's lips and Kíli took this as an invitation to deepen their kiss, moving so that he was now pressed against her front, the door at her back.

She braced herself against his broad shoulders as his tongue brushed against hers, his taste flooding her senses and erasing everything else until there was only him, his touch, his desire. Instinctively, she raised one leg to wrap around his waist, allowing their bodies to move even closer.

Kíli broke their kiss and rested his face against the side of her neck, his low moan warming her skin. She could feel him pressed against her center, the evidence of his need causing her own legs to quiver.

Regaining some amount of control, Kíli began placing slow kisses along the side of her neck, trailing his lips across the base of her throat, nipping, teasing. Tauriel's head fell back against the wooden door and she wondered briefly whether they should not head to one of the rooms instead. All thought was abandoned, however, when Kíli pushed down her leg and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, sliding them down her legs in one swift motion.

Before she knew it, he had straightened up again, reclaiming her mouth in another hungry kiss. He grasped her leg, repositioning it around his waist. Tauriel flexed her muscles, pulling him even closer against her, the friction against her now bared, most sensitive flesh causing her to feel lightheaded with pleasure.

Kíli took her by surprise when his hand snuck around to wrap itself around the back of her other thigh, pulling her leg up so that she was now held up solely by his body, his most glorious body, the uneven surface of their front door still at her back.

He chuckled when his actions elicited a surprised gasp from her, but his laughter turned into a strained sigh when one of her hands left its place on his shoulder and slid down between their bodies to cup him through the front of his trousers.

Tauriel felt a satisfied smile tug at the corners of her lips, but she decided to have mercy on her husband – and herself, to be honest – and unfastened the clasp on his legwear, pushing the garment down with slightly trembling fingers.

Feeling their balance falter, she saw herself forced to reposition her hand on his shoulder. He would not have needed further encouragement anyway, she realized when she felt his hardness press against her flesh, eager, waiting. Bracing herself against his shoulders, she angled her hips forward just a little, bringing their bodies even closer to that most blissful of unions.

With a trembling gasp, Kíli adjusted his hold onto her, and, unable to longer deny them what they both wanted the most at this very moment, eased himself into her as slowly as their position allowed it. Tauriel felt him fight for control, sweat beginning to glisten on his temples, and she realized that she did not want to take things slow, wanted to abandon all control, just for once.

With her legs wrapped tightly around Kíli, she urged him on, her nails digging into his shoulders through the fabric of the tunic he had never managed to take off when he obliged and quickened his pace, each of his eager thrusts causing tiny sparks to appear inside her vision.

The sensation of being with him like this was too good, too exquisite, and soon her insides were coiled tightly in that tell-tale way that let her know she was not far away from unraveling in his arms.

"Don't hold back," Kíli suddenly panted, his lips leaving hers for a moment, "for I certainly can't. You're... Mahal, you're _perfect._ "

That did it for her and she felt that tightness in her core erupt into a million butterflies, all of her breath rushing out of her in a sigh of pure pleasure. Kíli rocked against her, once, twice, and then he, too, reached that most perfect state of oblivion with an almost feral groan.

With his head now buried against the side of her neck, Tauriel felt his knees quiver and then give away, and they both slid to the floor in a panting, disheveled mess. But still they did not let go of one another, pulling each other closer instead, until they were both lying on the ground, limbs tangled, heartbeats slowing.

Leaning over her, Kíli kissed her slowly and thoroughly, robbing her off what little breath she had left after what they had just done, and then rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so that her head came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up at the skylight above, the stars just becoming visible in the fading light outside.

"It feels good to be home," he said, his voice a bit sleepy and so utterly relaxed.

Tauriel could not stifle a silly giggle. "We barely made it past the front door," she remarked as she glanced at their possessions strewn all across the room.

Kíli gave a contented sigh. "Well, it _is_ quite a splendid door."

"That it is indeed," she whispered, craning her neck to press a kiss to the soft spot just below his ear. His arms tightened around her in response and she snuggled closer once more. She had no intention of getting up anytime soon.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

It was a few days later when Tauriel found Kíli in the study where he had been working on his bow, giving it some much needed care after their long time on the road. When he took one look at her ashen face he was on his feet in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he asked, an all too familiar knot of dread beginning to form in his stomach.

When her eyes found his he thought that she looked rather dazed, like she had seen something that she could not quite believe was true. "The king is sitting in our back garden."

For a split second Kíli's heart gave an excited jolt when he thought that maybe she meant Fíli. But no, he reminded himself, Tauriel would not refer to his brother as 'the king'. Which left only one individual for her to be speaking of.

"Thanduil," Kíli said, inclining his head. "I see."

If anything, Tauriel looked even more startled than before. "You do not seem surprised by this fact."

"I am surprised that he came here, to the Swallow's Nest," he returned. "But I expected to hear from him soon, yes."

When she still stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head, he remembered. She didn't know. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing some wayward strands from his face. "I'm so sorry," he said, "I meant to tell you, but after saying goodbye to Fíli the issue just got sort of buried under so many other things..."

"What issue?" Tauriel asked, her brows knitted together in confusion.

"I—," he began, but then broke off and smiled. "Come, let us speak to him. You will understand in a moment."

As she had announced, the Elvenking really was sitting in the small garden attached to the house. It was a grotesque view, really – during the months of their absence the rather wild garden had become even more overgrown and while they had already begun trying to tame it once more, it still needed a lot of work. Thranduil was perched delicately on the derelict stone bench that overlooked the herbal bed, his royal, immaculate appearance in stark contrast to his current environment. He looked very much out of his comfort zone.

The king stood when they approached him, his gaze briefly flickering to the house, a slight shadow passing over his otherwise stoic features. It was gone within seconds, though, and his eyes settled on Tauriel as she bowed before him.

" _Aran nín_ ," she greeted him, and Kíli thought he saw a pleased look cross Thranduil's face at the fact that she still referred to him as her king.

Inclining his head – maybe to hide his fond expression – Thranduil said, "You have returned safely then."

There was the hint of a question in his tone and Tauriel must have heard it too, for her eyes softened, her king's carefully concealed concern for her clearly moving her. "We had some trouble with goblins on our return journey, but other than that our travels were undisturbed."

The Elvenking's eyebrows rose. "Goblins? On our lands?"

"No," Tauriel assured him quickly. "Far west from here, closer to the mountains. The threat has been taken care of, for the moment."

Thranduil nodded absentmindedly, his gaze shifting to Kíli as if he were a bit reluctant to acknowledge him.

"And what news of Galadriel?" It sounded as if he did not really want to ask this question, but felt that he had to, seeing that he had come all this way to see them. Knowing that this was not the main reason for his visit, though, Kíli left it to Tauriel to answer.

"The Lady Galadriel has allowed Kíli to look into her mirror," Tauriel informed the Elvenking. "It appears that it was Faerveren who bestowed her gift of healing upon Kíli when he—" her voice faltered for the briefest of moments, "—when he almost died. She knew that he would need it to save me."

Thranduil's gaze flickered between the two of them in surprise before settling on the Swallow's Nest once more, his eyes pensive. "I, too, have heard the rumors, of course, that Iondaer's wife was also a seer. I never knew for certain, though."

Tauriel inclined her head. "Neither did I. What matters, though, is that Kíli's gift is just that – a gift, given freely and for the purest of reasons."

"And what would that be?" Thranduil asked, his eyebrows raised nearly as high as his hairline.

"Love," Tauriel returned without missing a beat.

The Elvenking dropped his gaze to scowl at the plants growing at his feet. "Of course," he said.

His tone was meant to be derisive, but Kíli thought that in the end the ancient elf sounded more envious than anything. Whether Tauriel detected this, too, he could not tell, but the fact that she continued to gaze calmly at her king, her head held high, caused his heart to soar with pride.

Silence stretched between the three of them and Kíli was beginning to wonder whether maybe Thranduil had changed his mind and would not address the matter Kíli was certain had to have driven him here.

"I was surprised," the Elvenking finally said, directly looking at Kíli for the first time, "to receive an envoy from Erebor a few days ago, carrying a most valuable cargo."

There it was, Kíli thought to himself. The king was finally putting his cards on the table.

"The White Gems," Tauriel breathed beside Kíli when she understood the real reason behind Thranduil's visit. "You asked for them to be returned, didn't you?"

Kíli broke Thranduil's gaze to smile at her. "I did indeed." Turning back towards the Elvenking he kept his expression guarded. "I take it the envoy received a warm welcome and is not currently confined in your dungeons?"

"He did," Thranduil replied, something akin to a smirk twisting his lips. That little streak of humor disappeared again quickly, though, and the king's expression turned serious and decidedly uncomfortable once more. "The long overdue return of my possessions was paralleled in unexpectedness only by my discovery of the identity of the new King under the Mountain. He is not who I – who _we_ – presumed him to be."

"No, he's not, isn't he," Kíli mumbled, not taking his eyes off the king. If he had not known better, he would almost have thought that this was Thranduil letting him know that he truly hadn't been aware of Fíli's survival, that he had not intentionally left him in the dark about something as vital as this. Kíli thought about what he knew of the Elvenking, of how loss had shaped his existence and, invariably, his character. And, for what it was worth, he decided that he believed him. Thranduil might have an infinite number of cruel tricks up his sleeve, but he would not allow anyone to nearly break under their grief for someone who was not even dead.

An infinitesimal nod was all that was exchanged between the dwarf and the Elvenking over that matter, but it was enough to confirm that, if in no other respect, this was were they agreed.

"My brother does not covet riches and treasures in the same way that many of our people do," Kíli remarked. "He saw no reason to hold onto your stones any longer."

Thranduil inclined his head in a rare gesture of genuine gratitude. Those gems really did mean a lot to him, Kíli realized. What he was not so certain about, was whether they would bring the Elvenking the happiness he so clearly sought from them.

"I will be sure to express my thanks in due course," Thranduil said. His expression turned businesslike once more. "I expect you seek to be declared free of your debt to me now and be permitted to return to Erebor?"

"No, not quite," Kíli returned. Thranduil's eyebrows rose once more, and to his right Kíli felt Tauriel stiffen, the issue of their plans for the immediate future still a sensitive one. "I was hoping to be granted your permission to stay at Tuilimbar indefinitely, with longer periods of absence. Also, I was hoping that this permission would be extended to include Tauriel."

The king did not look exactly taken with this idea, but neither did he scowl or outright ridicule Kíli for his proposal. "You are aware that I do not owe you any kind of favor," he finally said, his gaze impenetrable. "The return of the gems to me as their rightful owner was part of our initial agreement. You have merely paid your debt to me."

"I know." Kíli held the cold gaze of the Elvenking effortlessly. He would not beg.

Thranduil's eyes flickered to Tauriel then, and Kíli thought he saw them widen by a fraction when they skimmed over the gold ring on her finger. Tauriel fidgeted a little under her kings scrutiny, but bravely kept her head up, her own eyes trained on his royal features.

"Very well then," Thranduil said after another moment of strained silence, "you have my permission to come and go as you please."

Neither Kíli nor Tauriel were able to hide their astonishment that the Elvenking would agree to Kíli's proposition so easily, but they quickly checked themselves, not wanting to give Thranduil any reason to change his mind.

"We would of course still be at your service," Tauriel said, "if ever there was something we are needed for."

Thranduil inclined his head, making it impossible to tell whether he was pleased by this offer or not. "As I would expect you to be," he remarked coldly. But Kíli wasn't fooled by him, not anymore. The Elvenking cared about Tauriel, even if he tried to hide that fact behind scowls and snide remarks.

"I shall take my leave of you now," Thranduil announced, his eyes flitting, once more, to the house behind them, as if he were torn between nostalgia and a desire to escape the shadows of his past.

Tauriel gave a hurried bow, surprise about this unexpected turn of events still etched into her features. For once, Kíli followed her example, although he kept his gaze fixed on the Elvenking as he bent down, not yet fully trusting Thranduil's quick assent to their plan. For a moment longer the king lingered, as if he were trying to make up his mind about something, but then, with a characteristic swirl of his robes, he turned and left to be joined at the edge of the garden by two of his guards, whom Kíli had not noticed until then.

Kíli and Tauriel were left to gape after the Elvenking, each trying to comprehend the many implications of the conversation that had just taken place.

"I cannot believe he all but gave us a free pass to do as we please," Tauriel said after a while. "He must love those gems even more than I thought."

A gentle smile stretched Kíli's lips at that. "I'm not entirely sure the stones are the driving force behind his actions."

Tauriel blushed, but Kíli could not help but think that she looked a little pleased at what he was implying.

"Either way," she said, "it is a good thing that we now have his permission to go away again."

"And to come back," Kíli reminded her, lightly taking her hand in his. "It does indeed make things a lot less complicated. Although we might have left either way."

"We might have," Tauriel conceded with a wry grin. "But it feels good to not be running away from something."

"It does, doesn't it," Kíli agreed and tugged her closer, stretching to place a soft kiss against her cheek. He turned to look at the back gate of their garden through which Thranduil had just disappeared. "It feels strange to say this," he said, "but I hope having the gems back will bring him satisfaction."

"Me, too," Tauriel said with a gentle smile. "Although I am not sure whether he is capable of achieving that. Maybe, though, they will bring him piece of mind so that he can focus on other, more important things."

"Such as?"

"His relationship to his son has grown very strained," she explained a little shyly. "I hope – I _wish –_ he and Leogals could be reconciled. They need each other, even if they would never admit to it."

Kíli took a moment to study her. As always, mentioning Legolas brought with it a slight twinge of jealousy, but her genuine concern for the well-being of her king and his son were written all over her face. And this despite the fact that their incessant pride had caused her pain more than once in her past.

With warmth filling his heart to the brink, he brought his arms around her in a loose embrace. "Maybe it isn't too late for them yet," he said. "It wasn't for me and Fíli and we were literally dead to each other."

"I hope so," she whispered, cupping his cheeks to pull his face up to hers, her lips brushing lightly against his.

Kíli did not hesitate to deepen their kiss, thinking, as her body molded itself to his, that no jewels, no trinkets, no treasures could ever compare to the woman in his arms. That no material thing could ever make him feel the way she did – alive. And he pitied each and every soul, be they kings or beggars, who were less lucky than he was, who did not have that one person at their side to complete them and to love and be loved by that person. Unconditionally.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 _A/N: One more chapter to go... I think. Maybe two. But we're definitely very close to the end. Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following!_


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Kíli was to meet Fíli on the first day of the Dwarves' new year at the edge of the forest. He set out from Tuilimbar a few days before that, the air cold and crisp and the sky beyond the tree crowns a dazzling blue.

While the memory of the things that had happened exactly a year ago on Durin's Day and the darkness which had followed in its wake produced a heavy weight somewhere in Kíli's heart, he could not help but be giddy with anticipation. Missing Fíli had been a constant for most of this past year, but since he had found out that Fíli was alive still, the feeling had lost its horror, its bitterness, to be replaced with a good kind of longing, the sort of which you knew would be fulfilled at some point in the near future.

Drauchon joined Kíli as soon as he crossed into lands that were not part of Thranduil's realm, emerging from the shadows as suddenly as if he had been waiting for him already. Kíli laughed when the large wolf playfully nudged his head against his chest, nearly knocking him over.

Somewhere behind Drauchon, mostly concealed by the undergrowth, Kíli thought he saw the gleam of another pair of eyes, watching them cautiously. Satisfied that Drauchon was quite safe with his Dwarven friend, they disappeared again before Kíli had the time to take a closer look.

"A new friend of yours?" he asked the wolf at his side.

Drauchon bobbed his head, looking, Kíli thought, a little self conscious.

"I see," Kíli said, a smug smile stretching his lips, "not _just_ a friend, then."

He ruffled the wolf's furry head, happy that Drauchon had succeeded at finding company among his own kind. He and Tauriel had seen the wolf regularly since their return to Tuilimbar in late summer, but during times when they had been apart, his thoughts had often turned to their companion, worrying for him and hoping that his new life was not a lonely one. It was a relief to learn that his worries had been unfounded.

Now, Drauchon cocked his head to one side, peering around Kíli, a questioning look upon his brow.

"Tauriel ist not with me," Kíli explained, the verbal acknowledgement of that fact sending a small stab of longing straight to his heart. "But don't worry. She's quite well and sends you her regards."

As it was, Tauriel had elected to stay behind in order to attend to some matters at the palace – Elhadron had asked for her advice in several matters concerning the training routine of the Guard and Tauriel felt too honored by her friend's continued loyalty to decline him this request.

"I will come with you next time," she had said upon witnessing a small frown creep across Kíli's face, running her fingertips over his skin to smoothen the lines of worry. "And maybe it will be good for you and your brother to have each other all too yourselves – you only had that one day in the summer and there must still be so much to catch up on."

"I cannot dispute with that," Kíli had agreed. Taking her hand in his to bring her fingertips to his lips, kissing them lightly, he had added, "I hope you know, though, that I would never ask you to stay behind."

"And you didn't," Tauriel had returned with a gentle smile. "I really do need to get to the palace. And I know that accompanying me there is not a trip you would particularly enjoy."

And so they had bid each other a reluctant farewell, going separate ways for the first time in nearly a year. It felt strange not to have her at his side, and more than once Kíli found himself turning to make some kind of observation or even to just look at her lovely face only to find that she was not there.

Well, he thought to himself, then he would simply have to make up for the time spent apart once he returned to Tuilimbar. An idea or two of how he might do that crossed his mind and it was with a cheerful grin that he continued his journey.

With Drauchon at his side, he emerged from the treeline in the early hours of the morning. He did not expect Fíli until midday and so it was with a jolt of excitement that he discovered his brother lounging in front of a small fire he had built, warming himself against the dampness of the morning.

"Couldn't wait to see me, could you?" Kíli called out as he approached, the startled look on Fíli's face making him grin.

Quickly the young king of Erebor rose to his feet and met Kíli halfway. For his teasing, Kíli earned himself a friendly punch to his shoulder before he found himself crushed in a tight embrace by his older brother.

"Damn right I couldn't," Fíli muttered against the side of Kíli's head, clapping him on his back before pulling back to look at him.

As Fíli's eyes, sparkling with joy, roamed over his face, hungrily drinking in the features he had not set sight upon for months, the small part of Kíli that had been worried whether the rift between him and his brother had been widened again by distance was silenced once and for all.

"I missed you, too, brother," he said, still grinning from ear to ear like a fool.

Drauchon chose this moment to come up to the pair of them, emphasizing the fact that he, too, counted himself as something of a brother to Kíli by raising his enormous head to lick the side of Fíli's face.

Fíli looked horrified at best and stood, frozen in shook, clearly fearing that the wolf would proceed to bite off his head after having sampled a taste.

Kíli, with barely suppressed laughter, decided to have mercy on his brother. "There's no need to worry," he said. "Despite his appearance, Drauchon is actually quite the cuddler. And very good at detecting danger before any of us do, so I hope you don't mind me bringing him along."

Fíli eyed the large animal cautiously before bravely reaching out to gingerly pat the side of Drauchon's neck. Very much pleased with himself, the wolf plunked himself down beside the older Durin brother, his tongue lolling from his mouth. He really looked like an oversized dog then and Fíli could not help but smile at the wolf's antics.

"I expected your company to also include a certain elf," he remarked, glancing at the forest as if he wondered whether Tauriel was hiding among the trees.

"Tauriel won't be joining us," Kíli explained. "Something came up at the palace and she convinced me to go on my own. All is well, though, and she sends her regards."

His brother studied him for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was trying to assess the truth of what Kíli was saying. "So she didn't stay behind because she's... I don't know, unfit for travel or something of that sort?"

"Unfit for travel?" Kíli repeated, his mind utterly blank as to what Fíli might be talking about.

"Ah, you know what I mean," Fíli said, clearly somewhat uncomfortable with the current topic of conversation. "Whether her condition might be too... _delicate_ for her to risk putting herself in harm's way."

Still, Kíli struggled to grasp his brother's meaning. "Too delicate to— _oh_." His face became quite warm when he finally understood. "You mean if she's with child?"

"I—well, yes," Fíli stammered, equally embarrassed. "You two got married, after all, and it's been a few months..." He trailed off, looking a bit helpless.

Kíli laughed, the fact that were so clumsily discussing this matter suddenly quite amusing to him. "Well, she's not, as a matter of fact. She really did go to Thranduil's halls to help out a friend." His smile lost some of its mirth and turned a little wistful instead. "Also... I am not sure whether what you're suggesting is even possible."

"Mahal, I'm sorry, Kee," Fíli rushed to say. "I never meant to touch a sore spot."

"And you didn't," Kíli assured him. "It's not something that I – or we – think about an awful lot."

Which was true, mostly. The images of the small, dark-haired boy with pointy ears he had seen in Galadriel's mirror were a treasure Kíli only revisited during nights when he lay awake and wondered about the future. The hopes they symbolized were so tentative that he had not yet dared to share them with Tauriel, the thought of seeing her disappointed in the end unbearable to him.

"Still, I am sorry for being so thoughtless," Fíli repeated. He ran a hand over his face and Kíli noted for the first time that beyond the spark which their reunion had lit in his brother's eyes he looked rather worn out. "All that talk about producing an heir to the throne must have messed with my mind."

Kíli's eyebrows rose. "Who's talking about a heir? You've only been king for about two minutes."

Fíli huffed. "That's quite true. You'd think that with the task of rebuilding an entire kingdom before us, people had enough other things on their mind."

A guilty look must have crossed Kíli's face at that, for Fíli paused thoughtfully before adding, "Having you there to help really would be an asset – but I believe you know that already. It's alright, though. I think I understand why you cannot be there – a little bit, at least."

Kíli raised his eyes to meet the steady gaze of his brother, a suspicion beginning to take form in his mind. "Those speculations about an heir that you mentioned," he said slowly, "they do not happen to coincide with you having cast an eye on someone, do they?"

Fíli's answering smile was as hesitant as it was secretive. "It's too early to say much, really. And certainly too early to talk about heirs." Noting Kíli's slight pout he added, "As soon as that changes, though, I will be sure to let you know."

Kíli looked at him long and hard. "Alright then," he finally relented. "I just want you to be happy, you know. To find some of that happiness that I found with Tauriel."

"I know you do," Fíli said, even though he looked weary rather than happy right then. "And I know it wasn't easy for you to get to where you are today just as things aren't exactly easy for me right now. But I believe it will turn out alright in the end. I _have_ to believe that."

"I believe that, too," Kíli said sincerely, grasping his brother's shoulder with his hand. "I didn't always, but I do now. With all the things that happened in the last few months – I know that anything is possible."

Fíli laughed a little at that. "It's been a wild ride, hasn't it? For both of us." He looked towards the horizon where the sun was slowly rising above the lands, bringing with it the promise of a golden autumn day. "What do you say, we save some of that serious talk for tonight's campfire and head out?"

There was no definitive plan of what they would do during their time together – they didn't need one. The weather was in their favor and Kíli could think of nothing better than to just spend the day riding and talking, do some hunting and, maybe, show off some of his newly refined fighting skills to his brother. No distractions, no obligations, and no pressure.

Kíli looked at the two ponies Fíli had brought with him and flashed a grin at Drauchon. "Will you be able to keep up with us?"

As he had known he would, Drauchon produced that small sound of his which bordered on an indignant snort and leaped away, running past the ponies and heading north, thereby choosing the direction of their journey for them.

Kíli grinned. "Can't ever resist a challenge, that one," he remarked to Fíli, who wore an amused frown on his face.

Fíli raised an eyebrow. "I know someone else of whom that is true," he said. And then, quickly, "First one to reach the ponies gets to choose the faster one!"

Before Kíli's mind had time to process his brother's words, Fíli had set off already, running towards their ponies at a mad pace.

"Oi! Cheater!" Kíli yelled and set off after the blonde dwarf, laughing as he tried his best to catch up, even though, in truth, he did not care one bit who won their little race as long as he got to see his brother so happy and carefree. So alive.

Later that day, when darkness had descended once more over the lands stretching between Mirkwood and the Lonely Mountain, Kíli lay beside his brother, close but not quite touching, and gazed up at a sky full of stars. Fíli's light snores accompanied his thoughts as they floated freely around his head, reflecting on the present, remembering the past, wondering about the future.

How they had both changed in just the short span of one year. Or rather, how their lives had changed, for deep inside, at their very cores, they were still the same. Two brothers, two souls, bound together for eternity by their love and loyalty for each other. Distance could not harm their bond – Kíli knew that now. And so, instead of fearing how the changes that the future might still hold would affect his relationship with his brother, he found himself looking forward to watch it evolve as they both grew.

He tore his eyes away from the glittering sky and angled his head to the side to look at his brother's profile. Sleep had erased the lines of worry which adorned Fíli's brow as of late and in the moonlight he seemed so very young still.

Brother. Son. King. Maybe, soon, a husband and a father.

Some of those roles were Kíli's to fulfill as well and he vowed to himself to perform them as best as he could. It was the last label, though, which held his thoughts for the longest time, Fíli's speculations from earlier that day still ringing in his ears.

Fatherhood. He could not deny any longer that the seed of hope had long since been planted in his chest. Whether he should cultivate it and allow it to take root, that he did not know. The risks which doing so involved appeared dizzyingly high, but then again, didn't they call him the reckless one?

A sigh must have escaped his lips as a consequence of his musings, for Fíli stirred in his slumber, a sleepy hand feeling around on the ground until it found Kíli's fingers and enveloped them in a comforting grasp. Kíli smiled and turned towards his brother, abandoning those confusing thoughts for now. When the sun rose he and Fíli would go separate ways once more and he intended to savor every minute of being so very close to his brother, of being allowed to hold the one he had, not so very long ago, thought lost to him forever.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Say it again."

Tauriel pursed her lips. "No."

"Aw, come on. It's nothing but the truth, after all." If Kíli was one thing, then it was insistent. But then again, she had known that right from the beginning, had she not?

"I have said it twice already, that should be more than enough."

Kíli changed tactics then, his cocky grin turning into a playful pout. "Please? Just once more. For me."

Laughter bubbled up in Tauriel's chest and she lightly swathed his bare chest with her palm. "Stop that. You look like a lost puppy."

Kíli caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. "A puppy you cannot deny this one, insignificant wish?"

"Alright, fine." Tauriel rolled her eyes. "This is the last time, though." She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice as matter-of-factly as she could when she spoke again. "Today you hit ten out of ten targets during practice. I only hit nine."

Kíli grinned. "See? That wasn't so hard."

She glowered at him for being so smug about it. "I only missed the last one because you kept distracting me."

"Did I, now?" Kíli's grin grew even wider and he arched his eyebrows. He scooted a little closer to her and Tauriel realized with a pleasurable little shiver that this was an argument she could not win.

They were sitting opposite each other in bed, their bodies only partially covered by the tangle of sheets that was the result of their recent lovemaking. Despite her general state of satisfaction, Tauriel felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her abdomen when Kíli proceeded to take hold of her ankles and placed one on each side of his hips, his own legs sliding underneath her thighs. Except for their legs no parts of their bodies were touching, but Kíli was close enough now that Tauriel could feel the heat radiate off his chest and see the quickening of his pulse where it throbbed at the base of his throat.

She licked her lips nervously, the raw, physical intimacy of their position not lost on her.

"And how exactly," Kíli purred as he began to slowly extract the rumpled sheets from between their bodies, "did I, a common Dwarf, manage to distract a mind as sharp as yours?"

It was, probably, accidentally done, but as he tugged away the bedcloth Tauriel had been half wrapped in, half siting on, he managed to create a friction of fabric against flesh that was so delicious in its suddenness that Tauriel slumped forward with a sigh, bracing herself with her hands against his chest.

"In the same way that you always do," she said between breaths, lifting her forehead from where it rested against Kíli's shoulder. "By being a stubborn," she placed a kiss against his jaw, "insatiable," another kiss, "much too handsome Dwarf. _My_ Dwarf."

Her last kiss was placed on his lips and while Tauriel had meant for it to be not much more than a little peck, Kíli would have none of that. Cupping her face in his palms, he angled his head to better align his mouth with hers, his tongue parting her lips, demanding access.

She readily gave into his demand, and once he was assured that she would not pull away, his hands left her face, skimming down her shoulders and arms until they settled on her hips. In a move so bold that it almost caused her heart to explode, he tightened his hold on her and lifted her onto his lap, joining his body to hers swiftly, fluidly.

A loud gasp broke free from Tauriel's lips at this sudden but more than welcome intrusion, pleasure and pain melting together and making her go limp in Kíli's arms as tremor after tremor surged through her body.

He held her close as she recovered from this sudden onslaught of sensations, allowing her enough time to come down from her high. Once she felt more in control of her movements, she decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and used her grasp onto his shoulders to lift herself up and then slide back down onto his lap, taking him even deeper inside of her.

Kíli's fingers dug into the flesh of her lower back as his eyes grew wide and a bit unfocused. With a little tilt of his hips he urged her to keep going and she happily obliged, setting a pace for them that was fast enough to set their hearts racing and yet slow enough to make them both keep craving more, more, and more.

Their position did not allow for much movement, but the delicious friction created by their bodies made up for that tenfold. Much sooner than she would have thought, Tauriel felt herself approaching another peak, and this time, when she shuddered and gasped in Kíli's arms, he was right there with her, and she felt the hotness of his release pool deep inside of her as he held her close, so close that she could feel his racing heartbeat resonate in her own chest.

"You did it again," she whispered breathlessly, her lips just grazing his ear.

"Did what?" he asked, his own voice a bit unsteady from his heavy breathing.

Tauriel smiled as she climbed off his lap and pulled him with her to come lie beside her on the bed. "Distract me."

Kíli grinned sleepily as he rolled onto his side and draped an arm across her bare waist, pulling her close. "At your service, mylady," he hummed into her ear, before sleep finally claimed him.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

When Kíli awoke, the afternoon sun was painting intricate patterns on the wall of the room which had once been his chamber and which nowadays served as their shared bedroom. He loved those days where there was nothing to get in the way of him and Tauriel devoting their time and attention solely to each other while the world outside went about its usual business.

He stretched languidly, idly wondering what time it was, but finding that he did not really care. Soon enough some matter would arise that would send them out and about again, some mystery to solve, some threat to vanquish, some adventure to master. Until then, he was resolved to cherish every moment of peace with his beloved elf in their cosy home in the woods.

Speaking of said elf... He rolled over to find the space beside him empty and lifted his head off his pillow to spot her sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, looking at him with a slightly expectant expression. He realized with a fair bit of dismay that she had gotten dressed while he had slept, a loose, flowing gown hanging off her shoulders and pooling around her on the bed. It was the pale blue color of a winter's sky and created a striking contrast to her long, red tresses and sparkling green eyes.

In her lap Tauriel held the small chest which contained Faerveren's letters, her hands resting on its lid almost protectively.

Kíli raised an eyebrow, puzzled by her demeanor. "Is something the matter?"

Her responding smile was a bit wistful. "There is only one letter left," she said, looking down at the chest.

"There is?" Kíli sat up, gathering the sheets about his hips as he did so. Their window was open, as usual, but while the day was as beautiful as it was sunny, the air had been growing steadily colder over the past few days and now a chilly draft crept into their room, making him look forward to an evening spent in front of the fireplace.

For now, though, he scooted closer to Tauriel on the bed, peering at the familiar box. In the relatively quiet past few weeks, they had spent many nights diving into the history of their house's former owners. Now that Kíli had a deeper understanding of his connection to Faerveren, he had found himself latching greedily onto every detail which her collection of documents revealed about her, the image which he had of the Elven healer becoming more rounded with every letter, every diary entry, every poem, every drawing.

What would happen once the last document had been read, the last picture examined, Kíli had never thought about. And, judging by the look on her face, neither had Tauriel.

"I had not realized that we had read so many already," she said, looking a bit forlorn. "But then again, we had more time than usual at our disposal since we came back here."

Kíli covered one of her hands with both of his. "Just because we have read them all, does not mean that they won't be here anymore. We can always come back to them whenever we want."

He understood the feelings she was experiencing – Faerveren's gift to her carried so much meaning, to her, to him, and to them both as a couple. To have that taken away really would have meant a tremendous loss. Only, as he had just stated, the words on the pages would not disappear just because they had all been read in the same way that the history of Faerveren and Iondaer would not be forgotten just because they were not with them anymore.

Tauriel lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Kíli's knuckles. "You are right, of course. I'm being a bit silly."

"No, you're not," Kíli insisted. "In many ways, I feel the same as you do. I'm also curious, though – aren't you?"

She gave a small smile. "A little, yes. Shall we have a look?"

Kíli returned her smile and nodded. Sitting back against the headboard he waited patiently for Tauriel to remove that last piece of parchment from the chest and begin reading. His Sindarin was good enough by now to understand the gist of most texts he was confronted with, but he definitely preferred Tauriel reading and translating for him, her sweet voice adding to the pleasure of submerging himself in accounts of times long past.

As far as he knew, Faerveren had not arranged her collection in any particular order and so that last piece of parchment might have contained anything from the most trivial, impersonal note to the longest, most revealing letter. Still, Kíli could not help but feel that whatever they were about to find would be meaningful – it was the end of a journey, after all. And oh, what a journey it had been.

With his anticipation thus mounting, Kíli was a bit puzzled when a look of confusion spread across Tauriel's face as she slowly unfolded the parchment, careful not to damage it. He watched her study its contents for a few moments, the frown on her face deepening as she did so. She glanced at him and then back at the sheet she held in her hands.

"I do not know what to make of this," she said slowly.

Kíli sat up. "Why? What is it?"

She opened her mouth but closed it again immediately, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Wordlessly she then held out the document to him, her eyes curiously unreadable as to its contents.

With a frown of his own Kíli took the parchment from her hands while he kept his gaze fixed on her face, still trying and failing to read her. Giving up, he finally glanced down at the piece of parchment.

He stared at it for what must have been at least a full minute in complete silence – then he started laughing. Quite aware of Tauriel's rather bewildered expression, he tried to stifle his laughter with a hand over his mouth, but found that he could not, a knot that had been sitting in his chest for some time finally breaking.

"I don't understand—" Tauriel began, clearly helpless in the face of his inexplicable outburst.

Seeing that he was still unable to contain his mirth, he scooted closer to her once more and pulled her against himself, burying his face against the side of her neck, trying his best to calm down and also to fight the tears of joy that had gathered in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he finally got out when he felt a bit more in control of himself. "I didn't mean to scare you, it's just—"

He broke off and shook his head, still in quite a bit of disbelief over what was happening. Pulling himself together, he looked at Tauriel and then back down at the document in his hands, smiling widely. He gently ran his fingers over the ancient parchment, smoothing out a few wrinkles.

Faerveren's final message turned out not to be a letter at all, but a drawing. It was not, as most other drawings they had found, done by Iondaer, but by Faerveren herself and it bore her signature at its bottom. Faerveren's style of drawing was not as refined as that of her husband, but it was characterized by an immediacy of feeling which spoke to something deep inside of Kíli and which served to convey her subject matter most convincingly.

For the scene depicted in the drawing was one with which Kíli was quite familiar. It showed a female figure, seen only from behind, kneeling amongst a sea of flowers. Opposite her – face turned towards the spectator – stood a small child, gazing up at her with love and admiration shining in his little eyes.

Tauriel took his fingers off the page before them, to have a better look. "I still cannot— You know them?"

"I do," Kíli said, smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt. "I've seen them in what I thought was a dream, but now I am beginning to suspect that it was so much more than that."

He guided her hand to the female figure in the drawing and placed her fingers against the rough surface of the parchment, his own hand resting on top. "That's you," he said. "And this—," he moved their joined hands to the other person depicted by Faerveren, "—this is our child. Our son."

Tauriel went completely still. When Kíli tore his gaze away from the little boy's face to look at her, he saw that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "It is?" she asked, her voice choked with feeling. "But how...?"

Kíli shook his head. "I cannot explain it either. But I know – I just _know –_ that one day we will get to meet him. It might still be a little while, but it will happen."

Still mostly speechless, Tauriel continued to examine the drawing. Kíli could see her weighing the odds for and against what he had just told her, knew that she was considering the potency of Faerveren's gift of sight versus the novelty of a child half Elven and half Dwarven. The conclusion she reached was clearly the same to which he had come, and when she lifted her gaze to his, a look of heartbreaking tenderness softened her features.

"Then I cannot wait for that day to come," she simply said, embracing the impossible.

Overcome by a surge of affection for his wife, Kíli cupped her face with his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips, pouring into it everything that this moment meant to him, all his hopes, his fears, his desires. As always, she matched him perfectly, reciprocating not only his kiss but also his tumultuous feelings.

"Neither can I," he whispered against her lips before kissing her again, and again, and again.

When they broke apart they sat with their foreheads resting against each other while the light slowly began to fade from the room, another day at the Swallow's Nest nearing its end. And as the last rays of the sun touched their skin, Kíli thought of the family he now called his own, of Fíli and Dís, of Drauchon, of Tauriel and, someday soon, the little boy from his dreams.

And he knew with unwavering certainty that every step he had taken on his long journey had led him in the right direction. It might not always have seemed like it, but every mad choice he had made had helped to get him exactly to the place where he was now.

And that was a good place indeed.

XxXxXx **THE END** XxXxXx

 _Few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end._

 _J. R. R. Tolkien,_ The Two Towers

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

 _A/N: This is really it, the end of this beast of a story. I'm half crying, half laughing and in a general state of disbelief. I've been writing this much longer than it has been online - just a little over four years, to be exact – and so I'd like to say a few things about it. Please don't feel obliged to read through my ramblings, the fact that you've read this whole story is already more than I could ask for._

 _So, most importantly, a big **thank** **you** to everyone who showed their support over the years by favoriting, following and reviewing this story. Particularly those who made the effort to share their thoughts on a regular basis, thereby letting me know that even after all this time they were still out there, reading this, have seriously helped with my (sometimes very slow) writing process._

 _ **Celebrisilweth, Marzz, SakurayaXD, DarkMignonette, xXMizzAlecVolturiXx, Eva, MiyonzMae, Moonraykir, TwilightCakes, MissCallaLilly, Mechine, Tstelle, Helen Palsgraf, syeern, Bootsboots, Anno1701, Nina,** and everyone who reviewed anonymously, your kind words meant so much to me._

 _I know this story has its flaws, it's too long, maybe too improbable (I warned you about that, though, at the beginning) and there are some parts that I would like to go back to and clean them up a little if I ever find the time. Still, I'm proud of having finished it and never completely abandoning it, no matter how busy real life got._

 _I'm not sure what's next. I've been writing this pairing for so long now that it breaks my heart to imagine not making up stories about Kíli and Tauriel. Is there still a demand for those, though? I haven't read anything by other authors for a long while, so I don't really know what's out there. I'm open to suggestions, though, as long as it's not too AU (as in HighSchoolAU or something of that sort)._

 _What I can say for certain is that_ The Gift _won't have a sequel - that story has been told, I believe. Maybe a one-shot or two set in the same universe. I'm not making any promises, though ;)_

 _I'm going to shut up now. Thank you, again, for reading and I loved hearing from you and will continue to do so now that this story is over._

 _All my best,_

 _Amber_


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